Welcome to the Lavender Tavern Podcast.

Come join us by the fire for original gay fairytales.

In Season One...

• A man struggles against fate in a world where every child is born with a pair of dice that determines their success (or lack of it) at life...
• A demon who has been trapped in a lamp for nearly 1,000 years tells his side of the story...
• In a land where magic has been extinct for a hundred years, a student tries to convince his old professor that he has rediscovered it...
• On the edge of an endless fog, a lonely bartender and his barmaid swap tales - and romance - with a weary traveler.
• A chef extraordinaire can go through any door in the town where he lives, except the secret golden door at the back of the temple - because he's too fat to fit through it...
• An absent-minded mage in a time of magic gives humanity the ability to search for anything, at any time...
• ...and many more stories!

Written by: Jonathan Cohen

Stories Narrated by: Joe Cruz and Trevor Schechter

A Faustian Nonsense production.

In a city that stood on a hill by the sea, every child born was given a pair of dice...

When everyone is born with a pair of dice that determines their fate, how can one man escape his destiny?

Written by: Jonathan Cohen

Narrated by: Joe Cruz

A Faustian Nonsense production.

To read the full transcript, go to https://thelavendertavern.captivate.fm/episode/the-unlucky-gambler

Transcript​

In a city that stood on a hill by the sea, every child born was given a pair of dice.

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When the doctors had delivered the baby, red and crying, and cleaned it and cut the cord connecting it to its mother, one of the soothsayers would come in with a bowl of dice.

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The bowl was a creamy quartz that gleamed and shone; some said that it dated from before the city, but nobody knew where the soothsayers had found it, and they would never say.

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Inside the bowl were hundreds of dice: blue, yellow, opaque, cloudy, hazy, clear, shiny and dull. All the same size – small enough to fit into a baby’s closed fist. There were two dice of each kind, always.

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The soothsayer would go over to the baby and hold its tiny hand gently, moving the thumb and middle finger together as if the baby was snapping its miniature fingers. Then, two of the dice would fly out of the bowl and into the baby’s hands. And so, the dice would have been chosen.

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Nobody knew why a baby chose a certain pair of dice. There was no way to exchange them with another set in the bowl. Once a baby had chosen a pair of dice, those dice were with them for the rest of their life.

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Some dice were lucky, and some were unlucky.

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“Lucky” was not a word that was used in the city, however. It was considered bad form to discuss whether one was lucky or unlucky. 

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For the dice determined the outcome of every choice that a citizen made. If someone wanted to propose marriage, they rolled their dice to see if they were successful. If they wanted to buy a property, or barter a goat, or apprentice as a blacksmith, the dice would tell the tale. And once the dice were thrown for a particular decision, they could not be thrown again.

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Those with lucky dice lived good lives, and those with unlucky dice did not. But nobody spoke of luck, because everyone had the same chance to pick a lucky set of dice. Some had to get unlucky dice, and that was that.

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And so, it came to pass that on a day of a tremendous thunderstorm in the city, a baby named Anders was born.

Anders’ parents had barely made it to the hospital on time. Their car had broken down, and then their best friend wasn’t available to take them, and finally they were able to hail a taxi, but it stalled in traffic until some good souls helped push it and start it up again.

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Anders’ mother lay in the bed, sweating and cursing, while his father pretended he knew what to do, and let his wife squeeze and squeeze his hand.

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The soothsayer was late. Anders had already been born, and screamed and cried, red-faced, by the time the soothsayer arrived.

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“Apologies,” the soothsayer said, hefting the milky bowl in front of him. “I was nearly in an accident…”

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He need not have said anything. Anders’ mother was glowing, and Anders’ father looked as if he had given birth instead of her. The soothsayer approached the bed and lifted Anders’ tiny right hand. “In the name of fortune,” he said, gently moving the thumb and middle finger.

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The bowl stirred, and dice clacked. After a much longer period than usual, a pair of dice flew out of the bowl and into Anders’ right hand. They were an odd smoky red color that the soothsayer had never seen before. This, however, he kept from Anders’ parents, since a donation was expected after a choosing of the...

"No, you cannot wish for three more wishes. No, you cannot wish for an infinite number of wishes. And no, I cannot give you the power to grant wishes."

Dear human, Akuma the demon has been trapped in a lamp for nearly 1,000 years. Now he's going to tell you HIS side of the story.

Written by: Jonathan Cohen

Narrated by: Trevor Schechter

A Faustian Nonsense production.

To read the full transcript of this episode, go to https://thelavendertavern.captivate.fm/episode/the-demons-tale

Transcript

The Demon’s Tale

No, you cannot wish for three more wishes.

No, you cannot wish for an infinite number of wishes.

No, I cannot give you the power to grant wishes.

And no, I cannot turn you or anyone else into one who can grant wishes.

Have you decided on your three wishes, then? No? You are struck silent? Then I shall speak instead.

Perhaps you wish for wealth – all the gold, silver, gems in the world. 

Or perhaps you wish for the land of a sultan, or the property held by your rival, or even the house where you were born. 

Or you wish for fame, and success, and popularity – for your name to be on the lips of the masses.

Or perhaps – and this I cannot grant – you wish for the particular love of a man or a woman who spurns you, or one who does not know you…or one who loves you, but not enough. 

Or perhaps you would wish for adventure…relief from pain…good health…friendship…or a world at peace. All of these wishes I have heard many, many times over the centuries.

But still you say nothing? Then let me tell you something. There is one wish that no human has made in the nine hundred and ninety-six years I have been trapped within this container. I shall make you a bargain. If you can guess what that wish is, then I will give you all of the wishes you could ever desire.

You would like a hint. A clue. Very well…I shall give you several, and I will not take away any of your three wishes for doing so. Am I generous? Perhaps. You see, since the last time I was released from this prison, seventy-four years have passed, and I do so long to speak to someone. Even if it is yet another human.

My name is Akuma, and I am a demon.

I cannot tell you how hard it was for me to say that at first. Now, I can say it without shame, but there is still a hesitation on my lips and in my heart, for habit dies slowly. At the start, though, being a demon brought me much shame.

At the start…we demons all start as angels. Fallen angels. There is an original sin inherent in our creation, and so we are damned without mercy from the very beginning. Or so they tell us, and so we believed.

I was one of seven demons. Their names are not important. My name was not important to me until much later.

We lived as a family, in an abandoned building down below. Here I speak of constructs that your mind may accept – ‘building’ and ‘down below’. Do not confuse ‘down below’ with your primitive visions of Hell or damnation. I have heard tell of how humans believe we live among flames and sulfur and rocks. None of this is true. Ours was a world of infinite dimensions, spaces without measure.

And yet we suffered. For we were damned.

We were a family, but we were not a family. How could you care for someone who was deemed evil? How could you care for yourself if you thought yourself evil?

No, we lived in shame, and although our building had rooms without number, we allowed them to decay into squalor. We lived in the...