*A Welcome to Night Vale Fan Fiction* ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD! Welcome to Night Vale. A desert community in the middle of no where. Why don't you visit sometime? We can assure you, you will never return home. Again. Maybe you just need to stay for a bit and you end up staying much longer. You don't even know how long you've stayed. Maybe you'd like to meet Koshak? Come to Night Vale...AND NEVER RETURN HOME. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.


3. A Story About You That You Can't Remember

Think of all the people. Have you thought of them? You are the only real one, alone in the universe.


Welcome, to Nightvale.

*Listen to video here*

You had, had another argument with your fiancée and decided that you needed to cool down. You got in your car and drove down the black asphalt, lights blinking on either side of the road. Everything from traffic lights to the light’s shining through curtained windows were blurred with your tears.

You don’t really know where you are going, you’re just driving away from the place of the argument. From the time. The scenery changes, you’ve left the sun stained, sand bitten houses behind you and entered the vast desert. The barren waste land stretches for miles under the starless sky. The purple to blue hue of twilight is blending in with the orange and red of the sunset. The beauty of the surroundings does not phase you. You miss her.

You drive for what seems like miles, or hours; you can’t decide which but both seem to tell you that the distance is greater than you first imagined you would drive. You take no notice of the flickering shadows that seem to stalk you, spreading images of terrifying beasts on the rocky floor. The small lights of maybe helicopters don’t phase you as you carry on driving. You feel a wave of fatigue washing over you. You aren’t sure how much longer you can carry on driving in your current state. You don’t know how long until you’ll fall asleep against the wheel of your car.

You spy a small cluster of houses just before the horizon, the outlines glowing every so slightly as the sun dips behind them sheepishly. You are incredibly pleased as you are very tired, so very, very tired.

You press your foot down on the gas pedal, trying to get to the cluster as quickly as possible. You have forgotten about the fight, you don’t know why you don’t just return home. It seems unimportant, something worth forgetting. She seems like an event an acquaintance told you about once in the bar. When he was drunk. She doesn’t matter. The car accelerated slightly. Clouds of sand, dust and other particles flowering behind you. The mirage-like town grows larger and closer, every glance between the road behind you and the road in front shortens the distance; but the distance is much further than you anticipated.

You finally reach the town, the morning sun emerging from where it hid last night. You look to your watch, noticing that the sun rise was ten minutes early. It only then hits you how long you drove, and once again the tiredness sweeps across you like the tide coming in. Your car stops half way down the main road; there is no petrol in the gas tank. It is empty. The light shines through the panes of glass and you sit back slightly and just from a moment. You smile and breathe in the little town’s peaceful serenity.

The calls and cries of bird of prey echo throughout the harsh landscape, they are accompanied by the low sound of helicopters humming. You look at them, some say ‘Sheriff's Secret Police’ on them, others are just black. Then there are the others, the yellow ones with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving. They catch your eye, they interest you. There is no way of telling just how far away they are. The piercing screams sending shivers down your spine. You get out of your car that is now beginning to heat up and walk down the black asphalt on the roads. You have odd memories from the trip here, ones you can’t explain. The traffic signs were all in semaphores and there was a delay on the way here because there were tongues growing out of the road. The road is covered in a fine layer of sand.

And now for the weather.



A collection of people began emerging from the houses that lined the streets as you walked pass the enclosed desert landscape. They give you strange looks, directing odd glances in your direction. You run your fingers against the railing of a fence as you walk past. It only then occurred to you to find out where you were. Who you are. You walk up to a local resident, the question weighing heavily on your mind. There was no way of describing the man, he just stalked past you in -not an impolite manner, just in an unnoticing manner- a brisk walk. 

“Do you know where I am?” You ask, realising how stupid you sound as the words resonate from your lips. He looks at you questioningly and then smiles in realisation.

“The city council is that-a-way.” he says with a lop sided grin and begins to walk away again, returning to his brisk walk.

You call him back, “But what is the this place called?”

“This?” he turns back, “This is Night Vale.”


Welcome to Night Vale is not our idea or works and many of the idea's inside this books are not ours either. They are the works of common place books and Welcome to Night Vale is a podcast we urge you to listen to.

Today's weather was DFTBA by Hank Green, if you would like to feature any music in any upcoming chapters please comment bellow.

Today's proverb: How many hats can you wear? The same as the answer to life-42.

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