voidwalker

Void Walker is a fiction podcast about a pathetic people. Follow Krishna Karna's attempts to free himself from his prison and remember his past.

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Nine - Death

TW: Dirt and Death

YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY

[Tape Begins] Good morning.

(Sigh)

Good Morning [different tone]

Good Morning? Morning Good. Good Morning! 

Haha, Why am I still saying that? I know at some point I had a reason. I had a structure based in the idea of a morning. Now it's vestigial. Like tonsils. No part of this is morning anymore. I'm not sleeping, there's no rising sun- no alarm- no light piercing closed blinds- hah- no tea. 

The only thing morning means is the beginning of a new tape. In that way, tapes form the days of this beautiful, horrible place. There's poetry in that. 

But what was a morning? In its original definition. It’s a- Golly, I struggle to recall. It's warm. It was summer the last I remember. There's an alarm giving me the weather forecast on the news station. I got up, took off my pajamas and changed into my clothes. I don't remember what they looked like but I know I liked the way they feel. And the way they looked. They were too large for me. I know they were because all of my clothes were. I've always been thin, like way too thin to find something both in my size and something I liked. I don't mind the way they hung on me. It was comfortable. Made me feel protected. 

I made myself some tea and started the coffee pot for Malaysia. She used to drink tea too, but after college she had grown more fond of, eugh, coffee. 

I remember every part of it now. I can feel the day playing out in my head. It's comforting to remember a life before this. 

 Malaysia woke up later than me. I had made us breakfast. She sipped her coffee and told me about her dream. We had oatmeal with sliced fruit on top. blueberries and strawberries and each half a banana sliced into bits. She liked it, I think. She didn't eat much. 

I told her I had a Mass today. That Santano wanted her to come. It would end long before she had to get to the library. I think it spoiled her appetite. She rolled back and started searching through our little drawer of candles. She opened one and smelled it. Then she closed it and opened another. 

I tried to convince her. I told her surely she had seen how happy it made me and that she should just give it a try. It was far from the first time I had to ask her, but I think she saw the desperation in my voice. 

She looked to the candle she held it as- if almost as if she was asking it for advice before- pensively setting it down. She shut the drawer and backed away. 

"I'll go," She said before quickly correcting herself, "Just this once. ok?"

I remember the drive there. It was silent. I remember thinking the sky was so beautifully grim but I don't remember what it looked like. I remembered sitting in the back, uncharacteristic of myself but a sacrifice I was willing to make for Malaysia's comfort. Then the poems began. 

A sonnet spoken from a masterpiece that creates masterpieces. The truth, the only truth I had ever known. I remember exactly what he said. I wish I could remember the delightful ways his beautiful face contorted around each word as they flowed out of his mouth- swirling into the air like this DARN RED LIGHT. 

(quickly calming down)

Sorry. Sorry. 

I-

Malaysia got more tense as it went on. As the words shifted from speaking praise to the Earth to speaking praise for its creature. Santano caught my eyes. I remember the string of tension that connected us even from across the room as he explained and even simpler and simpler terms in hopes to enlighten my friend. He was so kind and gentle and sweet like the grass cushioning your feet as you walked. 

He was the Earth's favorite and I was his favorite. I like to think that made me important. 

His feet were so connected to the ground it's like he spoke from the core of the Earth itself. 

Malaysia softly prodded at her phone from a position she thought I couldn't see. When she saw me she whispered that this wasn't right. She called it a cult, she said it was evil. I couldn't believe her. The gull to call my community a cult right in its very service?

Though, I- I kept my cool. she just didn't understand and I was sure the hole would enlighten her. That beautiful combination of generations worth of effort.

I worried for her. Her soul more than her body. I worried her death would be in vain, but here and now I have the capacity to save her. 

The people filed from the pews into a second room. The people smiled and chatted as they armed themselves with simple mechanisms to dig. Shovels, mostly, although I know quite a few preferred the  more intimate struggle of clawing at the dirt with their very hands. They organized themself wordlessly into their places and they began to dig. Malaysia was given the privilege to watch me and with Santano. The people almost looked like ants from so far above. The site gave me so much joy I almost couldn't hear the escalation of Malaysia's concerned whispers up to frantic yelling. 

I can't remember what she said as I tried to drop them from my mind. Such horrible things, I know they were. "Listen," I pleaded, "Listen to Santano he can save you. I want you to be saved. You're not going to die a meaningless death. Malaysia, let me save you!"

...

(gulp)

She stormed off. I don't think she went far. 

"She just needs time," I said, unsure if it was to Santano or to myself. 

And then Santano spoke, and I remember exactly what he said. 

"You are kindness and compassion greater than me. You are the image of that support. I see the deep desire to help in your eyes, but in the same glint I recognize an anger I've never seen in you. I'm so happy you care so much for this cause and I'm sure your conflict is hurting you but you know what you need to do to save her."

The people in the hole continued to dig as my soft cheeks were so gently caressed by the smoothness of his hands. 

I knew what I needed to do. 

"For your community, for the Earth, for me." He said to me, the spade in his hand sparkling in sharpness. 

And I knew what I needed to do. 

The spade fit perfectly in my clinched hand as I walked into the darkness. 

I knew what I needed to do like I always did and only then did I have the strength to admit it. 

And I walked to her. And I knew it and I knew it. And I felt the blood pool and I knew it was hers. Wasn't it that very same red dancing in the room now? 

I know what I did. I remember what I said I remember everything. I did what I needed to do. Oh did I do it? Did I know it? I lived it. I killed it. I killed her. 

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Seven - Rage

TW: Bugs, Seriously, bugs. Loud Audio

YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY

Good morning. It's Krishna again. 

My hands are all chalky from all the digging. I think my sweat and the small bits of crushed stone have started collecting on my fingertips. I don't mind. It makes me feel connected to this place. All this time, however long I've been here, it's changed me as much as I've changed it. 

There's poetry in that. 

Hee hee hoo hoo

I feel alive, I feel so alive. I'm living and breathing and I'm sweaty and cold, the stone is harsh on my body and I love it. 

I love this place like a home and I hate who put me here. The feelings swirl in the pit of my stomach and it makes me want to laugh.

I feel the Earth, not physically but mentally. If I focus enough on my memories of dirt and cobbled stone and how they make me feel I can start to understand it. I'm remembering so many things. Things I never knew I forgot.

The visuals are all gone but I think I'm starting to understand my memories deeper than I did a moment ago. I think something's changing in me. I don't know if that's good or bad. 

(laughter)

There's a hole in the wall. It's (cath- cathartic? yeah) cathartic to take out this- anger (anger? no not anger) this - i don't know this feeling-- but It's so nice to let myself devulge into mindless hitting.

I wonder if that's how the people in the hole felt. Mindless like a colony of ants feeding into the whims of its Queen. Our queen. My queen!

Malaysia used to ask me why I like bugs so much. There are many reasons to like bugs. 

So many people think that bugs are pests and they refuse to see how beautiful they can be. I like spiders, especially the Daddy Long legs. I always thought that they- that it was a funny name and i remember they always looked so silly. 

Santano prefers worms. He likes them writhing in the core of the Earth, utterly entombed in its Majesty. 

I like the fur of moths and I love the sounds of crickets and cicadas. 

I love how bugs are so complicated even though they're so small. They can have hundreds of little tiny limbs or delicate antennae. 

Bugs have a lot to offer. I think people are scared of them so they don't try and look closer. I always liked looking closer. 

Have you ever lifted up a large rock and found bugs underneath? I don't mean one or two, I mean a colony. Have you kicked an ant pile and seen floods of them ooze out as if a physical manifestation of the beating heart of there colony? Have you felt your foot slowly become covered in creatures until it was an unidentifiable writhing mass of bug?

My favorite thing about bugs is that theres a lot of them. 

My old house had termites. We knew for a while, I could tell what they were from the pictures in my library books. My mother told our landlord time and time again but she always refuted. Then, one day, my mother saw one fly from behind her piano, so she moved it to see. The back side of it was gone. It was an insectoid pool spurting out flying creatures every way. They dispersed and made every wall look like it moved. 

My mother took my hand instinctively as if to quelm a fear she assumed I had, but I had never had been happier than that moment. 

They move as one. They all move as one, mindless in their movements, and that is why they succeed. We should be all a bit more like them.

When you hear this, you, the Warden of this prison. Know your not beyond saving. Listen to my words. Listen to the poetry. Listen to the Earth. 

I hope you put me here for revenge. I hope you feel- that you feel that lovely feeling seeing me struggle. I hope You're So satisfied as I lose direction like a spiral of ants. But I will return to my queen, he is waiting on me. 

(panting) 

You are not yet beyond saving. And as much as I hate you for doing this to me I want nothing more but to share our lovely plight. 

Santano would be so proud of me if he knew the rage I felt today. And I hope he does see me. No, he will see me soo- 

(tapes falling on the floor)

No! 

No no no-  The- the tapes. Warden, I have more to say to you but- No I - gosh I need to get these in order. 

[Panicked] 

There not broken are they? They- no no, none of them are broken. I'll get them back in order

Back in order in their little stacks. 

ok

~~~

No, no, 

Something happened 

The fifth one is gone. something must have happened when I was recording it or when I tripped. It's just. One of them is just static. No it's just static. (No no no) just static. Static. STATIC. 

[sob]

I'll get out. I'll get out. . And I LOVE this place and I hate it so much and I'll get out. 

out out out. 

And Malaysia will be there. And Santano will be there. And there will be no more static

and we'll all be so happy. My community. Its holes. It's rage. I'm going to get out. I'm going to spin webs of truth and rage and braid them together. 

my eyes will see every color my mind has forgotten. 

I'll get out

I'll get out. for them. I have to. 

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Six - Poems

TW: Bugs, Eating bugs, Cults, Post Credit Scene YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY

Hello. It's Krishna again. I have a story for you. 

Once there was a man who spun poems out of almost nothing. He was a masterpiece who made masterpieces. 

I asked him how he did it.

His mouth was like dexterous hands braiding thin threads into existence. I don't remember what it looked like when he spoke. I don't remember what mouse or hands look like at all. I only remember the feeling. I'm becoming more content with that. 

He told me he made everything poetry because everything already was. He told me there was poetry in the russell, the leaves and grass between your toes. 

He told me that many people didn't see it. He told me to see it. 

Of course, I saw it with more of my eyes. Gosh, my whole body saw it. I guess a better word would be that I felt it. I felt it and heard it and smelled it and tasted it. 

The earth is a masterpiece that makes masterpieces. 

He told me it was all a gift. The earth gifted us life and that we must repay our debts to it. Not in the way of nature but instead the soil that grows from. The rock and dirt that clods together to make all we know. 

He told me the earth was sleeping. He took my hand in his and he showed me a book of poems. 

I remember that I didn't know what the shapes represented. I remember the smell of the pages, like soil and river water. 

Santano gave me my community when I had none. We dressed in cloaks and heard his poems each day. I don't remember how many of us there were. I didn't count on ever having to. 

But, there were enough to fill a room.

And out of all of them, I was his favorite. 

I could recall his sermons in perfect detail, every word, every idea. What beautiful ideas from a beautiful, beautiful man. 

The earth gives us life. The earth let us take it. Nature itself is a gift for us. It would be... unwise not to appreciate it. 

A woman from my community took me hunting once. I was squeamish with the idea of blood but she told me the blood was just as much as a masterpiece as the deer itself. 

I don't think people often see it that way. For a while I didn't see it that way either. 

Santano helped me to see. To see not only the beauties of nature but the beauty of everything we make of it. Of the rigid edges of a city or the swirl of oil and water. Everything was beautiful because everything was earth. He spoke in poems because he got to see it all as poetry.. and I only wish to be like that. 

I think my time meditating has helped me to begin to understand. 

There is poetry in this darkness. In the cold cement floors and the sharp metallic smell.  

There is poetry in the way that little red light dances through it all, swirling and passing by as the only cut from the infinite depths of black. There is poetry in the way that that little red light is the only thing I can see, the only thing I can ever think to see, my only reminder of what vision is.

…

I never liked red. It was too harsh of a color for me. Now it’s the only color I could even think of… How ironic is that?

....

....

My community was small. We could all fit in a single room. We often sat in pews. Our size let us only grow closer to one another. In hardships and success we all knew one another. 

My community dug. They all dug a hole deep into the Earth. The hole was much older than them.  

They never grew tired. Their arms never grew weary. The earth gave them strength.

I remember why they dug, Santano told me, but I never had to dig. I was his favorite. I got to sit and watch. On occasion I got to preach. I remembered what I preached. 

I had a job in my community. I threw parties. I loved my community and they loved me. 

There was a melody to it, a certain rhythm. There's a certain rhythm to many things.  ...

Do you ever wonder if we invited art? Music, rhythm, poetry. Did we as humans create it or did we discover it? 

I think most people would say the former. Most people think that art is a strictly human subject. I know now that they are wrong. 

My mother played a song for me but she did not make it, she discovered it. Each note desperately searching for the path to its completion. She wasn't a creator, she was a navigator. Her song was a gift from the earth. She just didn't know it.  (ringing)

My mothers death was sudden. One day she was working and the next she was in the hospital. And then the next, she was gone. It was hard on me but Santano told me of life everlasting. I met Santano not long after my mother died, you know? I met him on a Wednesday. I remember the day we met. Well, it was the best day of my life. 

The sky was flush and gorgeous. I wish I could picture it. It was sunset but it was still hot and murky. I was waiting at a bus stop after work, my hands gracing the metallic seat for the soft coolness that remained trapped inside. I couldn't drive, golly, I still can't. I'm glad I never learned though. 

I didn't see Santano come, I only noticed that he had been there. I gave him a big smile in a wave as I would with any stranger, told him "Hi, how are ya?"

He smiled. His words were poetry, words so beautiful I remember exactly what he told me. 

It made me smile. He smiled too. 

I'm smiling now just thinking about it. It's so cold, so very cold in this room and yet the smile plays a song of heat on my cheeks.

I don't remember the looks anymore, but I remember the feeling. My cheeks were as flushed as the sky playing that same song of heat. The heavy humidity and deep heat made my shirt stick slightly to my chest. 

I remember everything we told each other. Every word of it sings to the song of my life. 

I had to go home, Malaysia would be worried sick if I was late and my bus was there. 

I shook his hand. It tangled into mine for a brief moment. Despite the heat his hands were like cool stone. They were smooth like tumbled rocks. My hands in turn were moist with sweat as if the humid temperature had become me. 

I walked onto my bus, sure to absorb that same glint of coolness from the metal bar I held onto, and for just a moment again, I turned back to him. 

I was expecting him to be gone, just a whim of the mind who came and went without a trace, but he was still there, still waving with a soft smile. It was only at that moment I realized how tired he looked. 

...

...

There was once a man who spun poems out of almost nothing.

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Six - The Spider is Dead

TW: Bugs, Eating bugs, Cults, Post Credit Scene YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY

[Tape Begins] The Spider is dead.

This is Krishna Karna. This is day 6. I think. I'm starting to not believe that. 

I never really knew how much time was passing, I don't have a watch and my phone ran out of battery some time ago. I was going through my camera roll. I was crying. 

I don't want to be too self-congratulatory, but I think I did well. However long I've been here, I've kept my head up the whole time. I've done well. I had done well. 

I don't know what day it is. And- to be honest I never really did. I marked the days by my sleeping but I haven't slept in a long time. 

The spider is gone. 

The spider is dead. 

I ate the spider. 

It was going to die eventually, I know that. It made a frail attempt at a web before I grabbed it with two fingers and ate it. 

A spider is a majestic creature that spins web from almost nothing. A spider is a creator, a masterpiece that makes masterpieces. Don't think my actions deny the Majesty of Earth's blessings. 

I knew a man who spun poems from almost nothing. He spoke them like every other word, and I loved him for that. He was a masterpiece that made masterpieces. He taught me what Majesty truly looks like. He taught me how to treat it. 

I would rather have eaten the spider then watch it slowly wither away until one day I didn't feel its tapping on my legs.

It's better this way, I think. 

I feel stupid to only ask now but when will I wither away? I haven't been so much as thirsty since I first arrived here. There is no food. There's not even water.

Maybe the trauma of the situation has made me think it's been days when it's actually only been hours. They say goes fast when you're having fun and maybe the alternative of that is time screeching to almost a halt. 

No, I can feel the growing hair on my chin and cheeks. Prickly and thick.I was never able to really grow a beard it was always patchy. I've always shaved daily and I know by its length that it's been longer than a day. 

Maybe I was right in the beginning. I'm asleep and this is some twisted dream of my comatose state. I don't know if people in comas still dream.

I really hope they don't. 

My hair is greasier than when I first came. My clothes still stink of sweat. The toe I stubbed has healed. Time is passing; I'm changing. 

But I'm not hungry. 

I forgot what I wore here. I can feel it, but it's pattern is lost to memory. I try to think on the patterns my clothes had. I know they we're colorful but I don't know what colorful really means. The only color I can think of is the brilliant red from the little light. 

Maybe the light is feeding me. It ok.. it might sound stupid but- I guess it just feels right. Like the place where eating once would have been was replaced with these tapes. 

But, I know something, don't I? 

I know something that someone else wants to know, and they wanted me to record it. 

I'm not a very interesting man. I don't get into fights. What could I possibly know? 

Better yet, if they are willing to go to such lengths, am I willing to tell them? 

The... uh.. Warden of this prison.

The warden wanted me to record tapes. 

That much has always been obvious. (chuckle) Why else give them to me in the first place 

Maybe they just wanted to see what it would do to a man or maybe there's something they needed to hear. 

...

I have half a mind to destroy these tapes but- haha, it wouldn't help, would it? And these tapes, this recorder. If my crazy hunch was right, would I starve without them?  

Am I willing to take that chance?  Am I willing to die?

....

I don't even remember sight. I can recall adjectives. I know what they meant and what they made me feel but I couldn't tell you what they look like. 

How pathetic is that? If it really has just been 6 days, and I've already forgotten what seeing was like. 

I know it's been longer though. 

I wanted to tell a story about Malaysia. I can tell you she's smart and sweet but I don't even know what she looks like. I know the way she smiled felt like fresh sun. I know her eyes were moonlight, but the composition of her face is lost on me. 

And Santano, my Santano. I know he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen, both in body and spirit but the soft curves of his face are lost on me now. I remember the songs Santano would sing to me. I remember his face like a melody, like a poem. But I can't see it. 

Although this knowledge is burdening it only gives me more motivation to rip myself from this place and see them again. I need to let this fill me with strength. I NEED TO LET THIS-

(hit)

...

(sniff)

i… I need to see them again. 

i need to see them

(crying)

I can't remember my mothers face. I can't remember what she looks like. I-

I...

~~~

I have a promise to fulfill. 

I didn't forget about our promise Santano! 

I didn't forget about our promise!

I will remain hopeful; I am hopeful; I am so hopeful for you

Santano, I will return to you. I will keep our promise. 

I will hear you play my mothers song

I will see the soft curves of your face

I will listen to the poems you spin

I will be enveloped with your warmth

I will. 

I will.

I will. 

Its so dark

(post credits) How curious. One can't help but wonder what his "promise" is, can you?

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Five - Malaysia

TW: Bugs, Bullying YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY

Why are you doing this? Why do I have to watch him just - suffer! No, of course you're not going to answer. You never say anything to me. 

Fine, be that way, but I have a few things to say to you. 

I know he isn't perfect but Krishna is a good person. He's nice and hard-working and even though he sometimes goes to do some weird stuff he never means harm to anyone.

I don't...

I don't get what you hope to get from this. 

...

I can hear him talk about me. I try my best to call out but I know he can't hear me. He thinks so highly of me. It makes me calm for a moment. I feel like I'm with him, somehow. ... And then... he talks about that man and all that peace goes- poof. 

You should let him out. You need to. 

Of course you won't. You never talk back, you never react, but I know you can hear me. 

You don't believe he's a good man? I'll tell you how good he is. 

My.... injury happened when I was only 5. Everything about my life changed. 

I had to go to a smaller school. Overwhelmingly Christian. Overwhelmingly White. When you don't have anyone to be around you don't have much to do with your day except study. 

I didn't like my new home, so I spent most of my time in the library. People still looked at me like I didn't belong but no one said anything. That was enough for me. I kept my head down for a long time. And then I met Krishna and, haha, that all changed. 

I didn't have any classes with him at first, we only saw each other at recess. 

I couldn't tell you what we talked about. He was always digging in the dirt for bugs and telling me cool facts about them he learned from a book. 

(chuckle) I thought he was silly. So bright and positive and enamored with every little thing. He's still a little like that. I can see him now, smiling despite it all. I don't think anyone else in the world could take what you put him through. 

Maybe... Maybe I thought too little of him. I thought I was protecting him, that someday someone would say something that'd burst his bubble of positivity but he's still smiling. 

I don't know if his happiness comes from hope or mania but I... He would want me to remain hopeful too. 

He's stupid. He's so stupid. In the best of ways. He did well on every test, he can remember these silly little facts and details and he could recite a book to you word for word but- he is stupid

He was my date to homecoming. I saved for months to get a dress- I remember I didn't like the color but it was the only thing in the thrift store that fit. He came out in his little suit. It was his fathers so it didn't really fit him right but we went out and we had fun. 

And then, someone there says some demeaning remark about us dating. I think it was a jab at my weight. "Krissy, you finally found someone on your level" Or something like that. I don't remember, Krishna remembers those things. 

...They never called him Krishna. Not even the teachers bothered. They called him Kris or Krissy. He didn't correct them but I know his name means a lot to him so I call him Krishna

Krishna didn't get mad. He looked sly and said we weren't dating. We were just friends. That came as news to me. I mean, I asked him out with roses and I thought he'd kind of get the message. 

I think he still doesn't get it. I mean, I've tried to ask him out like 10 times and every time he's none the wiser. 

I thought I was finally starting to get over him after I got out of high school. We kept in touch well but I met so many new people. I met a lot of people like me in a lot of different ways. I met a lot of people nothing like me. College taught me about a lot more than space. 

I had my first actual relationship where both people knew we were supposed to be dating. It didn't last long. It was my first time in any relationship and I was scared if I messed up I wouldn't be friends with her anymore. 

I've dated people since then. I mean, I don't think my dating life is really relevant. This is about him. 

I thought that crush was just a childhood thing until he moved in with me. I had to take care of him for months and it flipped back on some switch in my brain and I suddenly wanted nothing but him. I was just a teenage girl again pining away for someone who knew none the wiser. 

...

I never thought he'd have the guts to stand up to you. I mean, you've pushed him pretty far. I don't forgive you either, though. 

I- I'm proud of him. His... community, i think he calls it, and that man too. They are all the same thing. They aren't good for him. I think I hate them almost as much as I hate you- but... 

I don't think he would be this resilient without them. 

Shit, it's complicated to think about. I don't want to be thankful to them but I guess I am? I'm more thankful for them than I am for you right now. 

Uhg. 

I guess you're really not going to answer me are you. 

No, no, keep pretending like you can't hear me. Doesn't make a difference either way. 

But you really need to let him out. 

[voidwalker-dev]

Update

Due to unforeseen circumstances regarding one of the voice actors working on the project, Void Walker episode 5 will be pushed back. We are hoping to have this issue resolved for a release the next Monday, September first, although we can only make asusmptions up to this point. Our greatest apologies to any affected party. With Love, Void Devs

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Four - The Spider

TW: Death, Bugs, Spiders, SPOTIFY | YOUTUBE

Voidwalker, Episode 4 [Tape Begins]

Krishna here, and today I am NOT alone! 

{absolutely fucking giddy with excitement}

I have a friend! Well, not a human friend, he's a spider. Or she, I don't judge, hahaha!

When I was trying to get to sleep, I felt a little tickle on my leg. I'm not sure its breed but I know it has to be pretty small- Or... Or maybe it's a baby! So cute!

I assume they came from the vent and I am so welcome to have another lifeform to talk to- Even if they can't talk back. Hahaha, Ahh I'm- I'm desperate!  very desperate.

ANYWAYS. did you know some spider sacs have thousands of young in them? I think theres about 40 thousand breeds of spiders? And for comparison there are only maybe a few hundred breeds of dogs. 

And so many people hate spiders or are afraid of them but like everything else they are a beautiful creature put on this Earth. The Earth is inherently a beautiful place filled with beautiful things... it's just that some of those things you need to look harder at them to find the beauty in them. 

In my position, I'm happy to welcome a spider into my life. I'm happy to consider anything a friend. My time here has greatly humbled me and I think that's good.

I- uh- I miss my old friends. 

Oh guess I shouldn't be vague. I miss Malaysia. 

I've known her for so long that I find myself incapable of knowing life without her. I can't imagine a world where we didn't go to the same school and we never met and.... and I was alone. 

That story I told yesterday, where the boy cut my hair, I never said how I got out of it. Malaysia ran over the boys feet.

Jeez, I still think I'm still a bit embarrassed I needed to be saved, but it's always Malaysia savings me. 

Shes sweet and kind. Her skin is soft. Her hands are smooth and her fingernails are short. She held my hands alot. Sometimes to reassure me or to keep me close. Sometimes just to touch. I never minded, of course I didn't. 

I'd do anything to hold her hands right now. 

I want to tell a story about how we met but it would be a bit boring. But its- it's not like I have anything else to do, so. We uh- We went to the same classes for a while. We didn't talk much but silently we both knew that we were different from everyone else and... it was important. I think looking back, on it it isn't that important. The differences we had didn't really matter, but it mattered then, so we found each other mutually alone. 

"mutually alone" haha, almost sounds poetic... but maybe there is poetry to it. 

There was no inciting event to our friendship. We were two people in the same place that needed the same thing and we got it from each other. That's how friendships usually worked in elementary. Ours just didn't end. 

I remember around the end of our senior year I was scared to lose her. Malaysia is like- such a smart girl. Thats a bad way to explain it, but she spent every moment of that school year writing essays and raffles for scholarships and she was so happy to be accepted to the college of her dreams. 

I had to work and I wasn't near as smart as her. And, sure I used to be at the top of my class but it got harder to study when I started working. Around middle school I found myself at the top of the bell curve. Not too bad and not too good. Even if I got any scholarships it wouldn't be enough to pay a full ride and my mum needed me working. 

She said I didn't need to worry, that we would call every day. 

I didn't believe her. I thought she would call for the first few weeks and then once she found her people she would call less and I would become a symbol of her past... while she moved into the future. I didn't tell her that though. 

But, pluck my peppers am I glad I was wrong. Every day she called. Every. Day. Sometimes not for long. Sometimes just to say goodnight because she had been studying for finals. Sometimes at 3 am freaking out that it slipped her mind. But she called me every day. 

She never got to do anything with her degree. We lived in a small town and there wasn't much for astronomy. If you asked anyone there they would think thats the zodiac sign thing, Heck, I would too if she didn't make me was my mouth out with soap for saying it. 

The way she talked about it, it was like her moving away wasn't even an option. She became a librarian and made art to sell online to make ends meet. I worked at a call center for customer service, but I was always picking up odd jobs to help out. My mom was getting older so I needed to help out wherever I could like where she did for me once. 

It wasn't long after Malaysia got back that my mother... Well... I already talked about that.... 

For the first time I'm my life I saw a counselor. She suggested I find a roommate. Even if I don't like them it would stop me from being alone. I didn't end up doing that. I moved in with Malaysia instead. I figured if through all these years we managed to stay friends then we would make a pretty good roommates. and we did.

She's smart and skilled. Sometimes she has friends over and she always makes sure to tell me. Her house- our house smells like sweet candles. normally vanilla and lavender. It's only recently I've taken to lighting candles myself. 

She cooks some nights. Some nights I cook. Most nights we both do. Few nights we are tired and end up getting takeout. 

I quit my job a while ago, so when I'm at home I clean and do chores. It doesn't take long, and I'm never behind, so I have time to spend with my other friends, my community, and I get home in time to make dinner and eat with Malaysia.

Malaysia isn't friends with my friends. Like I said she has her group and I respect that we are around people that aren't ourselves and we enjoy it but I don't think she likes my friends.

Her friends come over to the house now again to play- D and D- and we share pleasantries and get along fine even if we don't talk much, but whenever I try to get her to even be around my friends she... she freezes up. I guess she's a little shy (haha...)

I know she doesn't like Santano. I don't get why. Santano is one of the best people I know. He's just beside Malaysia as my best friend. I don't think shes the jealous type but... I guess I could always be wrong?

...

..

I'm going to get back to digging. I think thats for the best. For... everyone?

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Three -

TW: Death, Religion, Bullying, Blood mentioned SPOTIFY | YOUTUBE

Voidwalker, Episode 3 [Tape Begins] Hi! Krishna Karna here!  I didn't sleep very well last night, not at all actually! but I am assuming that I've laid in that bed for a very long time and so now it is a new day. Day three, tape three! The hole is going swell, well, great, and phenomenal. I mean, it's a long process and my arm hurt all the time from the hitting, but I think I can feel an indent in the wall! I came up with a routine also! Routines are important! So, I decided to get up, stretch, and then jog in place until my legs are tired. Then, I can sit down and record my tape. After that, I'll dig my hole and- Oh- uh that kinda sounds inappropriate (and I don't know how to reph-)... I mean I'll keep working on my exit route. I realize it'll probably going to be easier to dig for longer if I do a little with each arm, so I'm doing that. Then I meditate! If I'm not tired enough to go to sleep yet, I can record a little more on my tape or maybe make up some stories with myself. Something fun- keep the mind working.  I've already done my stretches and jogging, and I have to say it makes me feel a ton better! And I'm finally getting used to this cold! The first night I had to curl up into a little ball and I put my arms in my shirt. Good thing I buy them big, haha! 

(sigh) Ok, that's good, positive affirmations! Let's see. I'm strong, I'm happy, I'm loved, and I'm going to get out of here in no time!  Whooo, I mean, staying positive is great but you know venting my troubles a little can't hurt, so I'm tired and my arms still hurt from last night. [ominous sound] Um, I miss people, like all people. I miss the sun, that's something. And I miss light, and I miss my bed and I miss my... friends. I miss Malaysia... a lot... like alot alot. You know what, let me try to call the police again. Maybe there was some sort of problem with a cell tower when I tried last. Yeah ok. I still have my phone

[distant voice] Where did I leave- there it is. Wowwie, color, did I sure miss you. You know, I really can't describe how relieved I am to see something other than the little red light. Ahhaaha!! Ok, oh look that's me and Malaysia as teens, it's my lock screen. I'm not even going to log in though because I can't get distracted I'm just going to go to the emergency callll-

dial 9-1-1....

[beeps and boops and sorts]

[dial tone] and- and?

[odd tone that definitely doesn't happen whenever you don't have cell service but Krishna doesn't know that he's kinda dumb] Nope, still not working. Well, it was worth a shot. Turning you off now! Bye Malaysia [weary] Hahaaa (sigh) Ok, that was fun, that was nice, what else to do? Mmmm, Oh! What about a story? I have one. I wasn't a very popular child at school, and like I said before, I was ok with that! Still, sometimes I dreamed about one day magically becoming super popular with everyone at school. My mum tried to get me up hip outfits and cool hairstyles, but she always struggled. Most of my clothes were secondhand and she was always the one to cut my hair. She was a single parent-- worked two jobs and cleaned the houses of our better off neighbors on the side. When she was at home, she was always exhausted.

(pause) Kids made fun of my clothes.  Kids made fun of me for a lot of things. Haha. My school was small and overly whelming Christian. I'm- well- well- I was Hindu. My mother was too. I never told anyone but somehow it came out and ... {pensive, his facade falters} and And one day during recess I remember being pushed. A kid said that I was evil. That I worshipped the devil. He said I needed to go away. Then he cut my hair.  I think I had a bowl cut, but he held my head up by a fist grasping the bulk of my hair. I remembered how he used to safety scissors because of the arduous struggle as I tried to escape.  Gosh I.... I remember going back to my mom. She was tired and laying in bed. I sat on the foot of my bed- of the bed. And I remember being so small, curled up in a ball. I was only 8 at the oldest. I asked her if we were evil- if we were bad people because of the people we prayed too.  My mom sat up in bed. I remember looking at her eyes. I remember thinking she was so... tired. She always looked so tired.  She wasn't shocked by my hair. I don't know if she just didn't notice or she was too tired to react. She patted the quilt that laid on her lap and I scuttled up to sit there.  And she said "Babu, do you know why me and your father named you Krishna?" I shook my head and she said, "It's because you are good. That name represents all the compassion and love you have inside of you, and all the love I have for you." She pressed me to her chest and hugged me. Looking back I find it amazing that she went through so much and yet she was so gentle.  ... Shucks, maybe that wasn't the best story to tell. I should (sniff) I should go. 

[Tape Begins] [Steps] Krishna back! I'm feeling better. I did my digging and I made some great progress today but I think this wall is a bit thicker than I thought it was which is fine! I'll make it through.  I did meditating and I tried to head to bed but I couldn't get to sleep so I figure instead of just layin there, I can do some thinking on how I got here. I'm also pacing a bit. Walking always gets my mind-- running, and I have just enough space here to make some laps.  Of course my first idea is that I wronged someone. I don't remember wronging someone enough to warrent... all of this? Maybe I forgot. They didn't want money, i still have everything in my wallet, and if they wanted something at my house, Malaysia still lives there. They would have to- No, no that doesn't make sense, they wouldn't have put me here just to rob my house- they could do that so much easier.  Maybe they wanted to see how far they could push me? Maybe they are helping me and I should be thanking them. 

But whoever did -- this, all of this, I'm not happy with you. I'm very mad. You. I.

I don't want to be mad and I know whatever drove you to do this was probably something horrible but Santano says I need to stand up for myself.  And I don't think I can forgive you. I don't think i SHOULD forgive you. I want to but... this is messed up! And the people at my-

(sound of stumbling and toe stubbing)

{next line peaks mic} AHG! FU- FIDDLESTICKS

(about to say fuck, censors himself) Gah- Son of a Biscuit- Gosh No- Sorry… sorry I stubbed my toe. Oh- I- I don't think it's bleeding- Oh I hope it's not bleeding, it just really hurts. Like- really hurts. I think I'm going to try going to bed. 

[voidwalker-dev]

So then. How are you liking Voidwalker? I hope you are enjoying it. We worked very hard to bring it to you.

We have a lot more to show you, but like all good things they come to those who wait

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode Two - Mother's Piano

TW: Death, Breif mention of existential dread, Somewhat jaring sounds, Breif mention of religion SPOTIFY | YOUTUBE

Voidwalker, Episode 2 [Tape begins] H- Hello! It's Krishna Karna again. I just woke up, so I guess this is day two. I'm sweaty- cold sweats i think. I don't know if I'm the only person that gets those- but- anyways Part of me was expecting to just wake up back at my house but I'm still here judging by the complete darkness. I was cradling the tape recorder when I woke up, and I thiiink i remember talking into it last night. It's a bit hard to keep a steady timeline. But anyways, on a normal day I wake up in my bed and then get dressed and brush my teeth and set off for the day. Those little rituals and all the changes of what's going on around me makes it easy for me to recount when everything happens. And surely clocks and the rising and setting Sun help too. Now, it's a bit like I'm spending all day in my room. It's a bit like after my mother... 

{his voice dims a bit} passed away. {goes back to trying to sound happy}

I got understandably sad, and on my work leave, and found it easiest to just sit in my room and do nothing. I don't regret -but- it- felt the lack of routine made my days hard to differentiate.  It's only natural, our minds crave structure.  If I'm going to be stuck here for a while, I should make a structure of my own. I mean, I can meditate and maybe do some stretching or exercising. I'm sure some aerobatics would make me feel less cold. I could make up some stories or poems and really practice my creativity. Get those jucies flowing! It kinda reminds me of–.and I know it might seem unrelated but- when I first saw the movie groundhog day, I didn't take it in a way of existential dread. Malaysia told me that it made her so scared to wake up on the same day. She was so… so terrified to lose the impact her actions had.  [Static stops suddenly]

… Oh, I should be honest, it wasn't the movie Groundhog Day. It was this little show we were shown in school about learning safety with a bear and each time he would do something unsafe he would wake up to the same morning. It's- well it's essentially a Groundhog's Day situation. Plus, that's a way more recognizable name. I barely remember the first one anyways.  She was also a little scared of the bear puppet so I'm sure that didn't help. Golly haha, she cried after class was done and I gave her a hug. I told her it was ok but it was kinda an empty statement. I always thought getting stuck in a Groundhog's Day situation would be awesome. Sure, it would eventually wear on me, but it was an opportunity to learn so much. I was a bit of a gifted kid (If you couldn't tell). Never as smart as Malaysia, but definitely smart. I thought if I had days or weeks just to learn I could get ahead of everyone else. I thought I could spend years on the same day reading every book in the library and once I finally cracked the code and made it to the next day I would be so smart and popular! I may not be in a Groundhog's Day situation, but that doesn't mean I can't learn. I don't have a library of books but I have myself.  And- Look, I may not be a Buddhist but I always found the idea of being able to understand the world just by understanding yourself to be… mesmerizing. I think that's what Buddhism is at least. I hope that isn’t offensive. It's comforting treating all of this like an opportunity. It feels less taxing. 

... Maybe I should try meditating. I'll get back to you when I'm done.

~~~ [Tape begins]

[the section has rhythmic hitting sounds]

Hey Krishna back. I think meditating helped. Probably not how it's intended to help but it definitely helped. I mean I feel so stupid not thinking of it before but I'm going to dig a hole. It's like one of those prison escape movies. I mean it probably is. I have a big cement wall and all the time in the world and I don't have to worry about any guards finding me because I'm all alone!  I don't know if it's going to work or not but it's the best shot I have and it gives me something to do. I'm using this corkscrew right now. It's part of my Swiss army knife and the way it pulls out gives me the rest of it to hold as a handle. I think it's meant as a bottle opener, but right now it's- it's uh..... well not sure what I'm using it for. I think in the movies they used it like- a nail file, although I doubt that would do me any good if I don't have anything with leverage. I think it's working. I can feel little stone- stone pebbles- chunks shoot out back on my face. I'm glad I don't have to worry about any getting in my eyes. I can close them just fine, it's not like they were helping me see.  I've gotten into a good- ptooey!- sorry, a bit got into my mouth. Not the greatest flavor. I've gotten into a good rhythm here. It feels kind of like dancing. Actually, it's hard to say but it reminds me of a song I know.  When I was a boy, my mum would put me on her lap and play a song. It didn't have a name. She would just hit the keys in a way she liked. It was soothing. Soft. Beautiful. I think it grew up alongside me. It became a song. A simple one. In actuality, I don't think my mum ever knew how to play the piano; she just knew how to hit the notes in a way that sounded nice. They had character, they had form. 

…

{the piano song starts playing} I don't know how to play the piano. When I was 10, my mum sold the piano. She barely used it any more once I got into school but she played the song one more time for me before it went away. I remember the song very well.  Years later I played it for Malaysia. She had to sit there while I messed up again and again. Then, finally, I got it. She smiled.... laughed, such- such a sweet girl. One of my other friends had a piano. I played it for him too. Santano-actually! He knew how to play the piano. He’s one of the best pianists I know. I just went along and he helped me. It almost felt like he heard the song before, like it was a completion of something that had gone its entire life alone.  And then he deconstructed it. Not with his words or hands but with the notes he played. He tore apart every melody. I understood it so much deeper than even nostalgia itself. I knew it as love. Santano is a very, very talented pianist.  I want to hear him play it again. I'm sure he will once I'm out. Once I make it through this stone wall and get back to him. 

[voidwalker-dev]

Voidwalker Episode One is out now on Spotify and YouTube

[voidwalker-dev]

Void Walker, Episode One: Wake Up

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Death, Darkness, and Bugs

YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY

Transcript:

Voidwalker, Episode One

[Tape Begins]

Hi, my name is- Krishna Karna and I'm stuck in a building. Today I woke up in a pitch black room, and I thought for a while that I was still asleep- but I'm starting to believe that this isn't a dream. I’m still wearing my day clothes and in my pockets I still have my wallet and my phone and my keys-- even my Swiss Army knife, but my phone was only at 50% when I first checked. And... at first I tried to look for a door with the flashlight but I couldn't find anything and I started thinking that I was kidnapped, so I tried to call the police, but I don't have any Wi-Fi or cell service. (ringing) I saw this video about survival skills once and it said that you should try and call 911 even if your phone says it doesn't have any cell because other cell providers might pick up the signal or well something like. I don't really know how that all works, but I tried anyways- wherever I am, my phone just doesn’t work. 

And then- So I used the flashlight to look around a little bit better- and then I realized how weird this place is. I mean, every wall and the floor and the ceiling- all pure cement. There's no holes or exits except for a small vent up by the ceiling. I'm glad the vent is there so I don't end up- uh?- suffocating in a big cement brick... it's not big enough for me to fit through. I thought I was so smart to carry a swiss army knife to unscrew it before i realized that- even if it had screws I wouldn't be able to fit anything more than my hand in there.

Yet- I thought, somewhere was an exit. Even if it was locked it would be somewhere to start. I mean (hah) how could they have gotten me into here without a hole somewhere large enough to fit a person. So I looked around.

 

Thing is, there isn't much here for an exit to be hiding by. There's a pile of tapes, maybe 40 of them (I didn't exactly count) and then there's a tape recorder and a spring mattress. Other than that the room is completely barren and it's not very big. My first instinct was to start checking if there was anything recorded on the tapes. Part of me just thought that maybe there would be riddles for me to solve to get out but all the ones I checked were blank. I guess it was a little silly to think (haha). But uh- I don't know- I checked under the pile of tapes and the mattress to see if either had trap doors, but both are just the same cement as everywhere else. The mattress isn't in the best condition- but it's better than sitting on the floor. 

After I looked around, I turned my phone off because just using the light drained my battery by like 20%, and whenever I get out of here and to somewhere where I can call the police, it would be a lot easier to have my phone on me. But... without the flashlight though this room is dark. Like, entirely Pitch Black. I’m kinda glad that I have never been scared of the dark. This would probably be hell on Earth if I was, but it's just a little bit inconvenient. Actually the pure darkness is a little bit… soothing. Maybe I should consider this my chance to start meditating! It will make me a better person when I get out, at the least. I don't know. I don't know how I'm going to get out but I know I will. I just know it. For my Community! and for Malaysia. [Static Begins] She's probably worried sick that I'm gone. I can't just keep her worried like that. 

There isn't really much to do here but I figured since there's a tape recorder and a bunch of seemingly empty tapes all I really can do is record. When I get out of here, maybe there could be a documentary where they use all of these clips of audio. That would be nice. And then I’d get a hefty check from whoever ends up making it. 

Mhm- But- For now, I'm going to check the rest of the tapes. I don't know if any of them have anything on them but I might as well check because there isn't anything else for me to do. I'll report back my findings!

[Tape Begins]

Hey, Krishna here, I mean obviously it's me because- duh!- I'm still completely alone here- haha. Ok, ok but in more serious news there was nothing on the rest of the tapes. I think I checked them all, but I have to feel my way around in here because there aren't any lights. I kind of wish I invested in one of those light up keychains - you know the ones that last like.. forever? I felt around the room and I couldn't feel any tapes that I missed, so I organized the ones I had. I have a stack for the one I'm recording this on, that's where any tapes I'm currently recording are going to go. Then, I have a stack (well it's not a stack) but I have a place where a stack might eventually go for tapes that have already been recorded on. Then on the other side I have two stacks of the empty tapes. 16 of them had absolutely no sound on them whatsoever and then 18 others had some static. I decided I'm goinna- I'm going to use the empty ones first. I’m still not completely over the secret code idea, so if there's some evidence on here that can tell the police can decode, I don’t want to record over them. 

I can't stop thinking about how glad I am that I'm not scared. Oddly enough, I'm not that worried at all. I'm sure those feelings are going to catch up with me eventually, but right now, I'm just enjoying feeling good about this all. [Slow piano] I've always been a little weird like that. In middle school, I didn't have any friends because I would always talk about how cool I found bugs. When I was smaller, I think people saw a little kid covered in mud carrying worms was endearing, but as I got a older people I just became a weird kid. I didn't really care what they thought of me. I had my mum and Malaysia, and that was enough for me. 

That isn't to say I like the dark. It's making all of this a lot harder than it would otherwise would have been. Like when I was making those stacks, I knocked them down like three times (hah!). Eventually, I'm going to get a lay of the land and understand the dimensions of this room. It shouldn't be too hard because there aren't that many things to remember but… well, working without vision is pretty hard. Not much more to say on that matter. 

Whenever I'm recording, there's a little red light on the tape recorder. It's a little dim because this thing seems to be pretty old and it doesn't illuminate anything else in the room, but it gives me something to look at. I guess it's a little comforting for me. 

I don't know why anyone put me in here. Feels like a lot of trouble to go through. I think they must have built the prison around me–at least partially. I don't know what I did to make them want to do this. I'm not a rude person and I don't get into fights or violence! I actually like to think of myself as quite a nice person. 

But- Like- Even- I think my life's kinda boring- and That's not a bad thing. I absolutely enjoy my quiet happy life. I have my community. I have Malaysia. (She's a very sweet girl). And, sure, part of me will always wonder what life would be like if I was magically super interesting and traveling around the world, but I'm content... I- I was content, atleast. 

Gosh

I wish I wore a jacket when I got here. It's cold. Not like a big freeze, but cold enough that- it would make you want to bundle up. I wish there was a blanket on this mattress. I'm still thankful though! I'd rather this room be just a little too chilly than to be blistering in heat. I'm thankful that they gave me something to do. They left me with my clothes and my belongings and they gave me somewhere to sleep. As far as being kidnapped goes, this isn't that bad. 

And! When I get back, I'll have a big meal. Mal can make her empanadas, and I'll make kottu roti. My community is all sure to be happy that I’m safe. Maybe they will throw a party for me. That would be nice. All my friends together. But right now-

(yawn)

Maybe… Maybe I should try and go to bed. Going through all those tups- tapes took me a while and I would think better with a clear head. So- goodnight! 

[Tape Begins]

Krishna again. Can’t get to sleep, and there's just not much else to do here except for record so I think I'm going to talk a little bit more. I'm a little confused on why whoever put me here didn't just kill me. All of this effort for what? And why leave me with things if I can't use them. They're just teasing me at this point. 

It's still cold and every minute I go without waking up makes it more obvious this isn’t a big dream. Gee wilickers- I feel like I'm grasping at straws. 

But I need to remain hopeful, and I'm going to remain hopeful because there are people relying on me getting out… but... How am I going to do that? All I have is a tape recorder. (Uhg.)  

If by some chance I don't get out and it's years later and they need to break this thing open with excavator or a bulldozer or whatever they use to break concreate open, and when they get here, I'm not still alive, and tapes are all there is left of me…

…Well, I don't know what I should say. I feel like I’m deciding my last words. I think I was a good person and I think I had my good life.

If Santano is still alive, tell him I'm sorry we couldn't fulfill our promise. And tell Malaysia that I love her, although I'm sure she already knows. She's a smart girl

I know I… no, No I- I'm not going to give up I'm going to have to find a way to get out. There's people waiting for me on the outside of these gosh darn stone walls.

I'll get out. And I will. I'll get out- For them. I have to. 

-Credits-

[voidwalker-dev]

Cast and Crew

A list of requested credits on contributors to Voidwalker, see our wiki for episode specific credits Music COPPERHE@D [CCC]

Audio engineering/Producing

Fifteen [tumblr] FunSizedJJ [youtube] [youtube] [fiverr] [bluesky]

Voice actors

Smokey_RR [CCC]

Writers

Jazzy [youtube] [tumblr]

Aditional support

triplett0m0e [tumblr] odieclipse [youtube]

[voidwalker-dev]

Releasing on Spotify and YouTube. We hope to see you there.

[voidwalker-dev]

Release date set

Voidwalker officially has a release date, August 4th! For now, the crew is working on making some episodes and a landing page as an alternative to Tumblr for transcripts and episode information.

Voidwalker episode one will relese August 4th

[voidwalker-dev]

Void Walker

Void Walker is a fiction podcast about a pathetic people. Follow Krishna Karna's attempts to free himself from his prison and remember his past.

Void Walker is in early development. Follow to get updates on when episodes are set to release. To contribute your talent, see: