Episode Ten - Yarn and Thread is coming soon.
I have written the script for the episode, but need to record and edit it. I am hoping to have it up by this Thursday.
I apologize for the delay.
Nothing Is Wrong Season Three - THE WORMS
The
Balatron are not done with Amon Heights. They are especially not done
with the Murphy Family. Season Three of Nothing Is Wrong - THE WORMS is
coming this Fall.
Photo Credit Pedro Figueras https://www.pexels.com/@pedro-figueras-202443/
A Bird for a Heart - Episode Six - Vengeance and Hunger
Note - You can also follow this podcast at abirdforaheart.blogspot.com
Part Seventeen
A Witch of White Mountain
It didn’t take long for the Boy to catch up with Enin. For a time the two rode beside one another in silence. Most of the refugees abandoned the road and started collecting in camps along the side of it. Some even began to pitch tents and settle down as the sky grew black.
The Boy gazed up at the starless sky as his paksi’s taloned feet crunched through the patches of dried grass that dotted the road.
As they approached the tree line, Enin spoke.
“That night was starless too,” he said.
“What night?” the Boy asked, his voice soft and tired.
“The night they burned my mother.”
The Boy’s eyes widened. He’d never known his own mother. They said she’d died giving birth to him and his father went soon after. Stabbed in prison. Saiku Lin was the closest thing he’d ever had to real family.
“Why would they do such a thing to her?”
“She was a witch of White Mountain.” said Enin.
“I’ve never heard of that place.”
“It no longer exists.”
“How?” asked the boy, “How can a mountain cease to be?”
“It happens slowly at first,” said the sorcerer. “The weather gets warmer. The storms come more frequently. Then over time the sea levels rise...little by little. After many many years it becomes more sudden. Floods, devastation. Whole cities wiped away from the world.”
“How old ARE you?”
“Older than any place or person you have ever read of in your history books,” said Enin.
“How do you know I liked to read?”
“Lin told me. That is why I requested you be the one. All of the other children in her...service were incurious. I needed someone I could...see myself in.”
“Why? All you needed me to do was drive a cart and move some barrels. That’s not exactly the work of a scholar.”
“I wanted someone I could talk to. At the end. I need to tell my story. Some of it at least. Tell it to someone with the capability to understand.”
“Why a child? If you want someone to talk to, there are plenty of adults who read.”
“But there are precious few who listen.”
They rode along in silence for a while until the boy said, “Tell me more about your mother.”
“Her name was Pavitra. Her hair and skin were as white as snow. Her eyes the color of amaranth. She taught me to ride the giant white elk which roamed the forest. Like her, they are long gone from this world.”
“Who burned her?”
“They came in boats, up the Bear River.”
“The Bear River?”
“It was a river, and many bears lived near it. Names were simpler in those days. We called things what they were. But that river is gone too. Lost in the floods that created what is now called the Bay of White Whales. The floods that drowned the White Mountain, and many other places.”
“So someone came up the river into your home in the mountains?”
“Yes. Black riverboats with red sails. Raiders from the south. They slaughtered our village in the night and set fire to our houses.”
“That’s terrible.”
“We were a village of maybe one hundred people. The raiders were twenty and seven. My mother fought against them with her spears and her wicked eye.”
“Wicked eye?”
“She could look at a man and send him to his doom. Many who faced her took their own lives. But on that day, she was captured and blindfolded before she could slay any of the marauders. With her strapped to a pyre in the center of the village, the rest of my people lost their strength, their will to fight.”
“What did you do?” asked the Boy.
“I hid. I was a child. Half as small as you are now. I couldn’t wield a spear or work spells. So I covered myself inside a broken old cart. I heard her scream out my name on that starless night when the only light came from the fire that burned my mother to death.”
“How did you survive?”
“The raiders took all of our animals and children. They murdered every man and woman. The cart in which I hid had two busted wheels. It was no use to anyone, so they ignored it. Into the night the screams rang out until finally all was silent. I stayed hidden, quietly weeping under a pile of sacks and tattered furs. When the sun finally rose, and my tears had run out, I dared to venture into the center of the village. There I saw my mother, burned beyond recognition, but I knew it was her. Painted on her charred remains was a mark, a handprint of red ochre. I saw the same red hand painted throughout the village.”
“Her killers left a message.” said the boy.
“They pillaged the countryside. My home was one of many destroyed by the Red Hand. I wandered along the river for days before coming to another village that had already been ravaged. Unlike my home, an entire family had survived the attack there. They took me into their home and fed me. I stayed with them for ten years as they rebuilt what the marauders had taken away.”
“So you found a new family?”
“I suppose I did. But I never truly felt at home. My caretakers were pleasant enough and kept me clothed and fed in exchange for my labor. But I never let go of the rage at the loss of my mother. One day I journeyed down the Bear River to sell some grain at the market in a larger town. At the boathouse I saw it.”
“A black riverboat with red sails?” asked the Boy.
“Indeed. I lost my head in that moment. I took the oar of my boat and found three men in black tunics with red handprints on the back, arguing with the keeper over the price to dock there. My face not my own, I brought the blade of the oar down. Three times I struck. Each blow split a man to the bone with wounds deep and neat.”
The boy looked at Enin with eyes the size of wagon wheels as the man concluded his tale.
“I fell to the dock crying my mother’s name. When I came back to my own mind, I found myself in a prison cell.”
Part Eighteen
The Wolf of the Woods
Tula strode confidently down the dark path. The canopy of branches blocked out the dim light of the burning city. Before long she could not even see the shapes of the trees that loomed around her.
Still, she continued one step at a time, trusting the path beneath her feet would continue to support her.
Step by step she plodded into the black night, her arms raised in front of her to prevent walking directly into a tree.
Unfortunately, this did not help when her foot caught on a protruding tree root.
Tula tumbled face first into the ground, landing hard on her arms, spraining one of her wrists.
“Stupid.” she whispered to herself, “Stumbling blind through pitch darkness and for what? Your pride?”
She sat in the dark for a long while, nursing her wrist. The hard ground grew cold. Tula began to sob uncontrollably.
“Why?” she asked no one. “Why is life like this? What kind of world is this where a man can take what he wants from me? From everyone? Take my heart? Demolish a city in an instant? Why is no one able to stop this? How can one man destroy everything so easily and callously?”
“Men are always like that.” said a voice resonating from within her chest.
“What?” Tula gasped.
“I said men are always like that. Doing what they want. Taking what they like.”
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Tula asked, “The little bird...the bird he put there. You spoke to me before. In the firestorm.”
“Yeah, it’s me. How many other talking birds do you know?”
“I-I..It’s just...how? How are you talking? How am I hearing you?”
“Look kid. I don’t understand it any better than you do. One minute I was sleeping in my nest. The next thing I know I’m stuck in a cage and my head is full of thoughts and words and...feelings.”
“When did this start?”
“Well, I woke up and little by little the words started to come to me. And the feelings...I think they’re your feelings.” said the Bird.
“Mine?”
“Yeah. I think I feel your feelings.”
“But what does-” the girl began, but stopped short as she saw a light within the wood.
A reddish glow flickered and moved in the distance between the trees. At first she thought it was fire, but it meandered and bobbed around the forest like a living thing.
Tula and the Bird stood in silent shock as the source of the light approached.
It loomed in the periphery of her vision, a shape that she could not quite perceive, as if her mind rejected it.
At first glance she mistook it for a mere beast, but its form was wrong—its limbs bent too many ways, its spine coiled unnaturally, and its silhouette never quite held steady.
It appeared to be wrapped in red, sinewy strands, like exposed muscle, but the texture was all wrong, pulsing and shifting as though it were woven from liquid hunger and old blood.
Where its head should be, there was only a vast, tooth-ringed maw, gaping and yawning like an open wound. No eyes, no snout, just a void lined with razor fangs, stretching far deeper than its form should allow.
“Does it see us?” asked the Bird.
The thing’s forequarter spun around toward Tula.
The thing twitched, lurched, and snapped forward in an unnatural way.
“I think it does now, thanks to you.” scolded the girl.
“No-no-nooo.” said the Bird. “No one can hear me but you! I’m pretty sure.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure this beast can hear you too.” said Tula, stepping away as far as she could, until her back pressed against a tree.
“I am no beast.” a voice leaked out of the maw, “I am hunger given form. I hunt without need. Without mercy.”
The red glow that surrounded the monster lit the forest path around Tula as the thing lunged for her.
It closed the distance between them in an instant. Tula flinched, but the thing did not strike. Instead, it stopped abruptly and tilted its neck, like a dog does when confused, except without a head the expression was terrifying.
Leaning close over Tula, drool oozing out of a gullet large enough to swallow her, the thing spoke “You...hollow child! I come to devour, but find the cupboard is bare!”
She shrunk away from the creature, eyes clamped shut. The bark of the tree, digging into her back as she cried, “No. Whatever you are, I don’t want this. Please. Stop.”
“I cannot stop.” seethed the voice from within the unholy thing. “I will not stop. I do not wish to stop.”
An appendage of meat poked its iron claw at the Bird.
“If I cannot eat your heart, I will eat this...morsel.”
The Bird fluttered in her chest, trapped against the metal bars.
In a flash the creature cut open the cage with its sharp talon. A wet tongue extruded from the maw, licking at the hole in Tula’s chest.
Tula felt the life pop out of her as the thing pulled the bird into its black hole of a mouth.
As her breath drained away, she spoke the only name she could think of.
“Kokaibel.”
Part Nineteen
A Light in the Forest
The Boy listened to Enin’s story of his youth. He’d never had a family to lose. Not that he could remember, anyway. All he’d ever known was the streets of Aurelia. Paol and Stik, and Saiku Lin were not particularly kind to him, but they taught him how to survive. He thought about Lin for a while. What had become of her in the burning city? She was a smart and resourceful woman, who controlled half of the crime in the city. Surely she would have managed to escape and find shelter. Perhaps when this was over he could return to Aurelia. Perhaps she would take him in once more. Assuming that the city still existed when this was over. Assuming the world did.
As the pair reached the point where the road met the forest, they saw the light of a bonfire burning off in the wood. A narrow footpath separate from the main road veered in the direction of the fire light.
“Looks as if someone is making camp there,” said the Boy.
Enin squinted his eyes in the direction of the glow. For a brief moment the Boy thought he saw an expression of recognition, perhaps even fear in the old man’s eyes.
“No.” said Enin, “It is...something else.”
“Should we investigate it? Someone may be in need of assistance.”
“Our path is this way,” said Enin as he continued along the main road. “We are to go through the forest and into the swamp to find the second pillar.”
“Second pillar?” asked the Boy. “What is that? Why are we seeking it?”
“There are four...or rather three pillars that keep the world intact. Without them, the great dark will swallow all.”
“And you wish to do away with them, then. Is that it?”
“Yes. That is my purpose. To end all things.”
“Why?” asked the boy.
“Why?” Enin repeated. “Why?” he said as if it were the silliest question in the world. “It is the only way.”
“The only way to do what?”
“The only way for me to die.”
“That can’t be true.” the Boy said. “Are you really that powerful? The only thing that can kill you is the end of all the world? Do you truly believe that?”
“It is not a matter of belief, child.” said Enin. “I am deathless. I made sure of it long ago. Deals were made. Tears were sold. Blood was spilled. I have watched mountains drown, and continents grow. I have seen history unfold time and time again. It always ends the same way. And I am sick of it.”
“Don’t we get any say in all of this?” the Boy rebuked him. “Don’t I get any say? I am part of this world. If you truly mean to end it all...just for your own sake, then you need to defend your reasoning better than ‘I am sick of it.’”
“I do not sound like that,” said Enin.
“That is what I said.” came a dreadful voice from the woods.
Enin spun around at the sound of that voice. That buzzing, whining, scratching voice.
“Shade!” spoke the sorcerer, “Show yourself!”
Kokaibel the cacodaemon slipped silently forward, his feet not moving, like a floating shadow filled with glittering lights.
“Fallen one,” said Enin, “I am graced by your presence.”
“Yes.” Kokaibel said, “Yes you are.”
“What brings you here to this wood on this dying world?”
“My reasons for being here are my own, mage. It seems that you and I have something in common, though. We both seem to have a habit of attracting rude children.”
“What are you?” asked the Boy, in awe of the demon before him, shocked by the very shape of Kokaibel, the confusion of the demon’s existence, like a void on legs.
“Boy!” commanded Enin, “This is Kokaibel of the Stars, Fourth Watcher, Jewel of the Sky, a direct creation of the undivided wholeness.”
“If you seek to curry my favor with regal epithets, sorcerer, save your breath. I am not one to be charmed. And as for the undivided wholeness...let us say that we parted ways long long ago.”
“Are you some sort of angel, then?” asked the Boy.
“Oh I like this one!” said Kokaibel, “I feel as if he truly SEES me. Yes child. I am...or rather was, an angel. But now I am between positions as it were.”
“Pay no attention to the Boy.” said Enin, “Have you come to guide the way? Are you sent by the dark to lead me to the second pillar?”
“Oh dear me.” Kokaibel chortled. “I don’t do that sort of thing anymore. The old messenger job didn’t suit me. But the second pillar is your destination, you say? That explains everything. The firestorm that released me...you have already broken the pillar of the firmament, haven’t you?”
Enin brandished the black blade and said, “Yes. I destroyed it with this.”
“Oh that is unsettling.” said Kokaibel, “You carry a piece of...him.”
“Him?” said the Boy.
“Yes. My...uncle is perhaps the best word to describe it. Your master wields a sliver of his...essence.”
“He’s not my master!”
Enin grew visibly angered. “If you’re not here for me, then why are you here? Do you mean to thwart my desire in some way?”
“Oh dear little immortal.” said Kokaibel, “Not everything is about you. Go on. March toward the pillar of the Earth. Play your little game. I am not concerned with that. I walk this plane in search of my own desires.”
“I find it a strange coincidence,” said Enin, “that an Archon of the heavens crosses my path not minutes after I spy the Crimson Wolf burning off in the woods.”
“Crimson Wolf? That wretched thing?” said the demon, turning his gaze toward the glow the boy had mistaken for a bonfire.
“Oh my.” Kokaibel said, “Well isn’t that a treat? She’s about to be gobbled up. Just like I said.”
“Who? What?” said the Boy, trying to see what the demon described, but his mortal eyes could not pierce the forest.
“My little friend.” said Kokaibel, “She seems to have gotten herself into a bit of trouble.”
“Your little friend?” asked Enin, truly perplexed for the first time in quite a while.
“The girl with a bird for a heart.” the demon said. “She’s calling my name now. Isn’t that rich?”
A Bird for a Heart. EPISODE FIVE: Power and Innocence
Part Fourteen
A Demon’s Bargain
“Girl,” said the Muck Witch, “I beg you not to listen to this beast.”
Tula glanced back at the two of them, the broken woman on the ground with her hair full of smoke and the demon hovering over her like a person-shaped hole in the fabric of the world.
“I crackle with power, Tula Petek.” spoke Kokaibel in that dire voice of his, a voice which sounded of crying infants, roaring flames, and swarms of insects shaped into syllables. “Say the word and I will show you what I can do. Unleash me and I will be yours to serve.”
Tula gazed upon the imploring eyes of the Witch and the dagger smile of the demon. She sensed the dangerous raw power of the inhuman thing, but power was exactly what she needed. The world literally burned around her as she stood weak, and vulnerable. The end, whatever that meant, was coming. If making a deal with this thing that should not be could make things whole and right again would that not be worth any risk?
“Dear. Please. Understand.” said the Witch. “Kokaibel will never let you free once you accept his aid. He grants desires at first but he twists wishes and he will spin you around until you are his slave.”
Tula turned toward the burning city. The vermillion glow of the flames had dimmed, but billowing grey smoke still rose into the night sky. Tula had never been to Aurelia, but heard of its wonders. Kara Lys was a much smaller city and she had lived near it her entire life. Whenever she had free time after working in the market she explored the streets and alleys. Every outing revealed new sights. Aurelia was legendary for its splendor. Travellers spoke of it as tenfold the grandness of Kara Lys. Yet now that golden city lay destroyed in the distance. Every moment that passed a home or shop burned to the ground, gone forever. She would never see the beauty of this city. No one would unless this devastation ended now.
What power could this demon actually have? She thought. Can he do anything to help this situation? Tula decided to test him, to give Kokaibel a harmless task and see if it works.
“Kokaibel,” the Girl with a Bird for a Heart said, her voice cracking just a little, “I accept your offer of assistance. As a show of good faith I request that you heal my companion. Use your power to make the Witch’s leg whole and right once more.”
“As you wish.” spoke the demon.
Maegda’s eyes and mouth opened wide in horror. Before she formed a single word, the shadow-being fell upon her.
Kokaibel wrapped around the Witch like a cloak. Maegda tried to move, but he enveloped her as she struggled. Tula stepped forward, not knowing what to say or do. As she approached, the shadow lifted.
The Muck Witch sat with her knees up and her face in her hands, the splint Tula had applied nowhere to be seen.
“It is done.” said the demon.
Tula examined the Witch. The odd swelling was gone without so much as a red mark on her leg.
“Please rise!” said Tula joyously, “You are well!”
Maegda lifted her face at Tula. The Witch’s eyes narrowed and her nose drew up in disgust.
Tula took a step back at that look. “I had him heal you.” she said meekly, “Your leg is mended. What harm can be in that?”
“You ignorant.” said the Witch.
“You stupid.”
“You spoiled.”
“Self centered.”
“Willful.”
“CHILD!”
“You have sealed my doom. For years I kept him locked away. For years I had his power in a bottle.I could have used it. I could have drank him like wine and used this demon’s might to reshape the world as I saw fit! I could have made my will the law! I have lost in my life more than you will ever know. I could have fixed so many wrongs...challenged DEATH! But I resisted.”
Kokaibel stood silently behind Maegda as she ranted, with that jagged smile somehow apparent on his unseeable face.
A hot tear slid down Tula’s cheek as the Witch continued to berate her.
“For years I held that demon in check! I held myself in check. Not once did I allow myself to accept his promises of power because I knew. I knew if I took that power for myself it would be my undoing. And now here I am. Tainted. Touched by his dark influence. His unholy might flows in my veins. I can feel it. My pain is gone. My body is healed, but I am as good as dead.”
“It’s just a leg...” began Tula.
“It was everything.” said the Witch, “You let him in. No...I let him in, but you...you opened the door. You do not understand. You don’t feel it. The seal has been broken. Now that I have tasted it there is no way I can resist taking more.”
“The city is burning!” Tula said, “The world is burning. We need to help who we can, not stand here. If this demon can help save lives, I don’t care what the cost is. My own life is already forfeit. I have seen what power he has. Down there in Aurelia there must be many who require our aid.”
Maegda stood gracefully. She turned away from Kokaibel and simply said, “No.”
“No?” spat Tula. “What do you mean?”
She paused for a heartbeat before changing her mind and said, “On second thought. I don’t care what you mean. I don’t need you.”
Tula lumbered down the hill.
“I’m going home.” said Maegda as she walked back toward the swamp. “Perhaps with distance and time I can resist the seeds this demon has planted. Believe me, Tula Petek. No good will come of trusting Kokaibel.”
The witch returned to the remains of her hut.
Tula got to the bottom of the hill and turned to look back up the slope.
“Demon,” she said up at Kokaibel, “are you coming or not?”
Part Fifteen - Some Old Friends
Having no other plan in mind, the boy followed slowly behind Enin. Most of the refugees headed roughly the same direction, though there seemed no particular reason for it. A few miles in the distance sat the forest, marking the horizon. Perhaps they hoped the trees would offer shelter for the evening.
The Boy reckoned that at a gallop he could reach the edge of the woods within the hour. Yet Enin maintained a steady trotting pace.
After several minutes he made his way nearly alongside the sorcerer. They traveled silently together for a while.
The Boy saw some figures ahead on the road, two older boys standing beside a prone paksi.
The Boy raced ahead on his mount to greet the travellers.
“Ho there!” he said, “Is your beast injured?”
One of the older lads looked up and the boy recognized him as Darik. Darik had been a cruel and frequent tormentor of the boy for several years on the streets of Aurelia, but now he simply looked weak and frightened.
“We were hoping to get out to the country. Away from this hellstorm, The two of us, Naveed and I.” said Darik, not seeming to recognize the Boy. “We...borrowed a paksi and galloped as fast as we could. The stupid thing fell to the ground and now it won’t budge.”
“You’ve probably exhausted the poor thing.” the Boy said. “That bird was never meant to carry two riders. Certainly not at a vigorous pace.”
A tear streaked down Darik’s soot-stained face.
“Hop on.” said the Boy. “Our paksi are larger and much stronger than the one you have. As long as we do not work them too hard, they should maintain their strength.”
Enin trotted up beside them. “Are these friends of yours, Boy?”
The Boy looked at Darik and Naveed. He knew them both. Naveed was a round-faced boy of perhaps sixteen years. He barely spoke and almost certainly could not read. Darik was taller and broad-shouldered with straight dark hair and tan skin. Many of the girls called him handsome and he never lacked for their affection in spite of his callous nature.
Though they shared years of acquaintance Darik’s face showed no sign of recognition.
“They are strangers to me.” lied the Boy, barely concealing the venom in his voice. He worried that had he told the truth, Enin would realize how much he hated the older lads.
He suspected the sorcerer would refuse them aid if he learned how atrocious Darik and Naveed had been.
“Then tarry no longer.” Enin said, “We have matters to attend to beyond the forest.”
“But they’re going the same way!” said the Boy.
“They would needlessly slow us down,” said the sorcerer. “Besides, there is no point in them running. Soon there will be nothing to run from. Nothing to run to. The world is ending.”
“If you choose not to help them, then I will follow you no longer.” the Boy said.
“Follow me.” said Enin. “Do not follow me. It is all the same. I have no need for you, Boy. I just do not desire to end this life alone. But if you would rather sit with these ruffians on the side of the road or tend to their ailing beast as the world burns, I will not stop you.” With that he urged his mount onward down the road.
“What did the old man mean?” said Darik. “He said the world is ending. Did he mean that? Is he insane? I half believe him. Never saw no fire fall from the sky like this. Me Nan did once, though. Durin’ the war she said. The enemy threw burning barrels of pitch into the city. It nearly burned the whole town to the ground.”
“We aren’t at war.” the Boy said.
“Then what was it then?” Darik said, “You don’t know nothing about no wars. You don’t know if the king were to be at war with another king.”
The Boy looked at Darik and said, “We don’t have a king. Aurelia has never had a king. Ever. It’s a free city run by a council of merchants.”
“How you know that?” spoke Naveed for the first time.
“I read it in a book.” the Boy said. “Reading is good for you.”
“Oh yeah?” said Darik. “You think you’re real smart, eh?”
The Boy did not like the look in Darik’s eye. He’d seen it many times before. There was something about the cruel and stupid that made them become infinitely crueler when you reminded them of how stupid they were.
Darik grabbed at the Boy’s leg.
“You know what?” Darik said, “I’m taking that mount for myself. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve shit!”
“Let go!” said the Boy.
“Leggo!” retorted Naveed in a mocking tone.
Darik grasped hold of the Boy’s leg and tried to pull him off the paksi. The Boy gripped the reins, but Darik was strong and nearly had him.
“Give a hand, you donkey!” said Darik to Naveed.
The round-faced lad galumphed over and attempted to grab hold of the Boy’s arm. He caught only a bit of sleeve and pulled.
“Stop it!” The Boy said “This is my paksi. I’m not letting you take it.”
“I remember you now.” said Darik. “You’re that little turd who used to run with Stik and Paol down on Butcher Street, ain’t you? You were always a bit of trouble. Never listened. Always mouthing off to your betters. Yeah. I know you.”
A flood of memories filled the Boy’s head. He hadn’t thought of Stik and Paol in a long time. They were tough lads, not much better than Darik and Naveed, really. The only difference was that they picked on other kids instead of him. Eventually they ran afoul of a real gang and were found in an alley with their throats slit. That was when Saiku Lin found the Boy and took him in.
“Hey ‘Veed,” Darik said to his friend, “remember this waste? I used to box his ears for fun.”
The Boy twisted the reins in an attempt to keep his grip. The massive bird began to twist and shake its heavy head.
Naveed looked up at the Boy’s face and a dim light of recognition appeared in his eyes.
“Oh yeah.” he said, “It’s-”
CRACK!
The paksi spun its thick neck around and hit him square in the jaw. In a flash the lad fell to the ground.
In shock Darik let go of the Boy, leaving him half dangling off the giant bird.
“Yah!” yelled the Boy as he spurred his paksi onward. The bird took off into the night with the Boy nearly falling from his perch.
Darik ran after him but could never hope to catch up with the long legged mount.
Part Sixteen - A Deal Declined
“Child.” said Kokaibel. “Do you think I am some hound that will follow because you command it?”
“I don’t care what you are.” said Tula, “You can follow or not. But you will not stop me from doing what I choose.”
“And what do you think you are doing?”
Tula scanned the horizon. A dark wooded forest stood between the edge of the hill and the burning city. Above the trees spread a glow that could have been mistaken for a glorious sunset. Billows of smoke drifted up from the source of the light. A narrow path shrouded in shadows cut through the middle of the forest.
“I’m going there.” she said, pointing along the path.
“It is dark,” he said, “There will be wolves. There may be worse.”
“What could possibly be worse than you?” she asked.
“Oh, my dear. Precious little in this green world is worse than I.” Kokaibel said, “However, being in my presence is no assurance of protection.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, “for one, I have made no deal with you. I have offered, but thus far you have only requested a sample. I healed the Witch, but if you wish for more from me you must speak the words to unbind me. Release my power fully.”
“I recall what you told me.” Tula said to the demon. “I believe your words were, ‘Unleash me and I will be yours to serve’. Am I not mistaken?”
“I do NOT sound like that. But your words are correct.”
“Demon. I am young. I am weak, and I am in desperate fear for what is to come.”
Kokaibel’s ebon form shimmered like the twinkling of stars in the night sky.
“But,” Tula continued, “if I unbind you then you are mine?”
“Yes.”
“TO SERVE?”
“Yes.”
“I am just a simple girl. I have not travelled the world. Before this ordeal began I had never travelled far beyond Kara Lys. I am what they call a fishlass. My grandmother paid coin to a tutor so that I could read and do sums. She had been often cheated by men in the marketplace because she could do neither. She worked hard to ensure I would be as prepared for this world as she could make me.”
Kokaibel wrinkled his simultaneously grand and yet imperceptible nose at her, “Tula Petek. Why waste my time with this pointless biography?”
“My point, demon, is that I am not as foolish as you think I am.”
She began to walk toward the wood. It started nearly a hundred yards from the foot of the hill. The demon Kokaibel remained behind.
“How so?” he asked her.
Tula turned to face Kokiabel and walked backward away from him with her arms outstretched.
“You say you would be mine to serve. You think you are clever, but if I give you what you want I know that you will be the master and I the servant.”
“Would that be so bad?”
She turned back and trudged onward. Tula did not care if Kokaibel followed. She had gotten used to walking alone in the past several days. Her body had stopped feeling the ache of the road long ago. She had dropped her stick at some point in the swamp and only now noticed its absence. The first day on the road she ate nothing. Her grandmother told her the way to the Muck Witch and explained the rules for seeking her counsel. The old woman could not give her provisions because help from another on the journey was forbidden. The second day she found a vineyard and ate only the fruit that had fallen. On the third day she had run out of fruit, but was fortunate to find a lake full of fish. As the child of a fishing village she was able to snare a few without a line or net but it took much of the day. She roasted her catch on the side of the road and slept in the grass before heading out in the morning. She ate the remainder of the fish just before she began walking again. Not long after she encountered the Boy who had attempted to help her. That seemed so long ago.
Now the sky would be black if not for the glow of the burning city beyond the wood. Her stomach grumbled but there was no food coming any time soon.
“I sense your hunger.” said Kokaibel, his voice just over her shoulder. “I could help. You cannot travel forever without sustenance.”
Without looking at him, Tula said, “What do you want from me, demon? I have already said I will not grant you power over me.”
“Did you? And do I not already have power over you? I have your name.”
“What does that even mean? If having my name has given you power then what more do you seek? You have told me to unleash you, yet you do not seem to be bound. If it was your plan to harm me you could do so by now. I am alone. None could stop you. Yet here I stand in a dark and empty field with a demon who follows me...like a hound.”
“I see, my dear. Then it is finished. I shall leave you on your way.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Clearly you have discovered my game.” Kokaibel said. “Your name gives me a degree of power over you, yes. Well...not so much power as...influence...but still. For me to be truly unleashed you must ask willingly for my power. You must invite me. But since you have no such desire.
“I most certainly do NOT.”
“Well then, madam, Good evening to you. I wish you well on your journey through the forest. Say hello to the wolves for me.
Tula could see the demon attempting to manipulate her. After all, is that not what demons do best? But she was smarter than that. Was she not?
“Then, good evening to you, Kokaibel. May our paths never cross again.”
The girl with a bird for a heart walked alone into the wood.
A Bird for a Heart - Episode Four - Demon and Sorcerer
Episode Four of A Bird for a Heart is up at abirdforaheart.blogspot.com You can listen to it right here using the handy dandy player up above ^. But the actual text is available at that link.
You can also listen to both of my podcasts on the podcast player of your choice.
A Bird for a Heart, Episode Three, Void and Flame.
As mentioned before, Nothing Is Wrong will be back in the fall. For the winter, please give my other podcast, A Bird for a Heart, a shot.
Note- there is some janky-ness in the first tow episodes that I intend to fix, but the third episode is fine as will be every episode thereafter.
A Bird for a Heart - A New Fantasy Fiction Podcast by Michael J Patrick
As I've said before, Nothing Is Wrong will be back for season three in the fall. In the meantime I have so far completed two episodes of a fantasy fiction podcast, A Bird for a Heart. You can listen to it at this link.
Episode two will be available on the morning of Monday, December 30th.
If you are enjoying Nothing Is Wrong and/or A Bird for a Heart, then feel free to support me on patreon
or by rating and reviewing my podcasts on Apple Podcasts, Spotify,
Audible, or the podcast player of your choice. Another great way to
support a podcast you love is to share it with friends!
Happy Holidays and good fortune in the new year.
Coming Soon - A Bird for a Heart
From the creator of Nothing Is Wrong comes a new fantasy fiction podcast.
In a world unraveling under the weight of an immortal sorcerer’s despair, Tula must confront the man who quite literally stole her heart. Along with a cunning demon bound to her by desperate choices, she journeys through a land scarred by destruction, seeking to be made whole again before darkness consumes everything.
A tale of resilience, reckoning, and the cost of hope, A Bird for a Heart explores what it means to hold onto your humanity when the world demands you let it go.
Find it at A Bird for a Heart
Episode 020
The Raging Host
(note - this episode takes place immediately after episode 015 - The Day After)
November 1982
“Ok, kids,” said Lucy, “It’s time for you to go home!”
“But-” stammered Christopher, “What’s going on? Who’s Alec Chino?”
“Alec Chino is just one name he uses. He’s their leader. The Balatron. He’s the Harlequin...the wild huntsman...the-”
“Hell Kin.” said Marie, “That’s what you called him. He’s the devil.”
“Well,” said Lucy, “I don’t know about THE devil, but yeah, he might as well be. You kids need to get home and Steven and I are leaving now.”
“What happened to your shadow?” asked Christopher.
Lucy looked down at herself.
“Molly. Her name is Molly. And she’s gone. For now at least. Hopefully she’ll come back. She always has before.”
Lucy opened up a closet and pulled out a big duffel bag. Reaching in she gripped two revolvers, checked the chambers on each and handed one to Steve before placing the other back in the bag which she slung over her shoulder.
“WHAT?” exclaimed Marie and Christopher in unison.
“Sorry kids.” Lucy told them, “I didn’t bring enough guns for everyone.”
“Umm...that’s OK.” said Christopher. “I don’t think our mom would want us shooting people anyway.”
“Well,” Lucy told the kids, “I can give you a ride home, at least. It must be close to your dinner time.”
“What time is it?” asked Marie, “It’s so dark out.”
“It’s almost five o’clock-” Lucy started as she opened the front door, stopping speechless upon seeing the world outside.
Dark red clouds filled the sky, blotting out the already setting sun. A cold mist rolled silently down Cooperton Avenue wrapping itself around the houses like greedy fingers. It filled the street.
“What’s happening?” said Marie.
“Umm,” Lucy said, “It’s just a bit foggy out. Let’s get in the car.” As she stepped out onto the walkway through her tree-shrouded yard, the street lights flickered and died, plunging the neighborhood into a darkness broken only by the silvery glow of the mist lit by the rising moon.
The faint sound of unearthly whispers filled the air.
Ghostly figures emerged from the mist - apparitions of children clad in the tattered remnants of halloween costumes and false faces depicting grotesque grins, eyes hollow and wide like bottomless pits.They moved with a jerky, unnatural cadence, their laughter like the clinking of broken glass. Among them prowled spectral, beastly lions. The eyes of the great cats glowed with fire and their maws dripped with the essence of nightmares. They advanced along Cooperton like a ghoulish parade.
Lucy tightened her grip on the duffel bag,"Get behind me, kids. Stay close."
A figure emerged at the forefront of the ghostly procession, towering above the rest. In a suit of red with black diamond pattern and a mask that sported a comically long nose, he stepped forward.
"Lucy Raymond," Alec's voice boomed, "it's time to finish what we started. I have come for the key."
Lucy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the revolver at her side. She turned to the kids, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. "We just have to get to the car. Together."
Quivering, Marie and Christopher followed Steve and Lucy to the driveway.
The Raging Host moved like a storm, a swirling force of ghostly children and strange beasts ripping through the quiet suburban night. Windows shattered, doors burst open, and the very ground seemed to tremble under their ethereal weight.
The air grew colder as Alec calmly stepped toward Lucy’s yard, his eyes glowing with malevolent delight.
"Stay close and move quickly." said Lucy, brandishing her gun in the direction of the chaos.
The children nodded, and together they made their way down the walkway, their footsteps silent against the howling storm. As they reached the edge of the yard, one of the wraithlike children lunged forward, its face twisted in a ghastly grin. Lucy fired, the gunshot ringing out. The apparition dissipated into the mist, but more took its place, their laughter echoing across the darkened neighborhood.
Alec Chino watched them with an amused smile, his eyes gleaming. "You can't escape, Lucy. The hunt is upon you!”
Ignoring his taunts, Lucy led the children to the car, throwing open the doors and pushing them inside. She took one last look at the advancing host before climbing into the driver's seat, then started the engine and slammed her foot on the gas, speeding away from the house.
The mist followed them, clinging to the car like a spiderweb, but the spectral figures faded into the darkness. Lucy clutched the steering wheel, her eyes scanning the road ahead.
"We can't go home," Christopher said suddenly. "They'll find us there."
“I don’t think they’re after you.” said Lucy.
“What are they after?” cried Marie.
“A long time ago Alec attacked me because he was looking for the key.” Lucy told the kids.
Tires screeched as she swerved the car sharply to avoid a shadowy figure dashing across the road.
“The key?” Christopher asked, his voice shaky. “Key to what?”
Darting down Cooperton, Lucy took a sharp left on 44th street. The mist twisted and pursued them.
“It’s from an old book. The key was an alchemist's attempt at understanding the Voiceless. He created symbols that converted their way of doing things into something humans could...use.”
Lucy reached Westfield Ave. But her path was blocked by a swarm of phantasms.
“Where are you even going?” asked Steve.
“Barry’s.”
“Who the fuck is Barry?” Steve cursed at her.
“LANGUAGE!” she berated.
A shadowy feline predator the size of a bear jumped on the hood of the car. A crowd of spectral children gathered around, encircling them. Among them stood familiar faces from school and the neighborhood all dressed in Halloween costumes.
“Shelly!” shouted Marie at a ghostly child who resembled her friend from school, Michelle Cohen, wearing the princess costume she’d worn the previous Friday at the school Halloween party. Her eyeless face pressed up against the car window.
Marie started to roll her window down, but Christopher grabbed her hand.
“Stop!” she said to her brother as she wriggled out of his grasp. “Shelly’s hurt. She needs help!”
“That’s not Shelly!” said Christopher. “That’s a ghost...or something.”
The car shifted as the great cat climbed on top of it, the weight of the creature causing the roof to sag.
“It’s gonna squish us!” Marie cried, tears running down her face.
The spirit children gathered closer to the vehicle and began pounding on it as more animals descended.
“Step on the gas!” said Steve.
“What?” gasped Lucy. “We’re surrounded.”
“Just do it!”
Lucy did as Steve commanded. The tires spun out for a moment on the road but the car started moving.
“Harder!” Steve shouted.
Lucy gunned it and the car pushed through the cluster of apparitions as if it were driving through gelatin. Progress was slow, but they were moving.
Marie broke entirely free of Christopher’s hand and rolled the window down again, trying to reach out to the specter of Shelly, but it was too late. The car had moved away from her. Another ghost in the crowd peered in through the window. An older boy dressed in a football uniform complete with helmet leaned toward her. He seemed to be trying to grab at her, but both of his arms ended in mutilated stumps, as if his hands had been bitten off.
Before she could register what she saw, a gigantic paw with long, razor sharp claws came batting into the window from above as the ghostly lion on the roof of the car made its strike.
Marie screamed in terror as the car accelerated and careened around the bend on to Westfield Avenue, throwing the incorporeal beast clear off of the vehicle. Once clear of the throng of ghosts they gained speed quickly and were soon a few blocks down the road. The host and the mists faded into the rearview mirror.
“Are we safe now?” asked Christopher.
“I don’t know.” said Lucy.
“Where are we even going?” asked Steve.
“Somewhere safe, I hope.” she replied.
They arrived at a small building tucked away at the end of a narrow alley. A faded sign above the door read “Barry’s Occult Shop.” Lucy parked the car and quickly ushered the kids inside, locking the door behind them before the chime bell had even finished ringing.
Emerging from behind a beaded curtain, the oldest man the kids had ever seen entered the room, with a lean, hunched frame, and a face etched with deep lines and covered with several days of bristly white stubble. The man pierced them with his icy gray eyes. He wore a thread-worn old bathrobe that might once have been royal blue over a tank top and pajama pants. Around his neck hung several amulets and charms covered in esoteric symbols.
“Lucy? What are you doing here at this hour?” he grumbled.
“It’s only a quarter after five!” she responded.
“Is it then?” the man said as he peered out the window. Between ominous red clouds the full moon had already begun to rise in the eastern sky. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Who is this guy?” Marie piped up to Lucy.
“This is Barry. Of Barry’s Occult Shop. Surely you’ve heard of this place.”
“I heard of it.” said Christopher. “My big brother, Johnny, told me about it. He said it’s for devil worshippers. He bought some incest here once.”
“I’m sure he meant incense.” corrected Lucy.
“Yeah. It smelled funny.”
Steve whispered in frustration. “Lucy, we need to get away from here. We already have these two kids with us and now you want us to drag a hundred year old man along?”
“Ninety-one as of last month.” said Barry, “I’m what they call a Virgo-Libra cusp. That means I never miss a detail and I keep it together when the rest of the world is falling to shit. Miss Lucy here brought you to my shop for a reason, and she’s nobody’s fool, so chances are you brats are in a mess and you need the kind of help that only old Barry can getcha.”
“It’s Chino, Barry.” said Lucy. “He’s here and he’s brought the wild hunt. Ghost children. A sky turned red. The whole thing. Like. End days shit.”
“Bah.” said Barry. “That guy’s all hot air. Did I ever tell you about how I got out of my contract with him?”
“We don’t have time for old stories, Barry. We need to put a stop to this. Quick.”
“You need to soak up the blood.”
“What?” asked Steve.
“The blood.” Barry said, “This whole damn town is built on blood. The whole country really, but especially here. Spilt time and time again over the ages. All the way back to the beginning. This land has been haunted since before the Lenape lived here. They called it Pemsithoking (Pem-sit-hau-ken)* - the walker’s land. Sensitive souls from before the coming of white folk and after often have visions of the dead here. Specters of loved ones who met violent ends, remnants of Revolutionary War soldiers, ghosts of children slaughtered by beasts in ages long gone by.”
“I saw that!” said Marie. “My friend, Shelly got eaten by a lion!”
“We all saw it.” said Christopher.
“No! I mean. A long time ago. She visited me in my dreams. When the shower- umm- when I saw a ghost.”
“Wait. The shower curtain people are real, aren’t they?” asked a shocked Christopher.
“The what people?” asked Steve.
“Shower curtain...ghosts that live in the walls of our house. I used to make fun of Marie for seeing them.”
“YOU STILL DO!”
“Well, that was before all...this.” Christopher said, waving his arms around. “So, when you saw the shadow people in the walls...that was...”
“The Voiceless.” said Lucy.
“But why did I see a ghost of Shelly? She’s not dead. I saw her in school TODAY.”
“Time travel.” said Barry, plainly.
“Oh come on now.” scoffed Lucy.
“You and I have both seen stranger things than that.” Barry said. “The Voiceless. Their ways. Their technology for want of a better word. It’s all about manipulating dimensions. Time is a dimension. It’s not much of a stretch to think they can move back and forth along it.”
“So,” Lucy said, “you think the clowns took the children back in time and...fed them to the lions? Like ancient Romans persecuting Christians?”
“Like a sacrifice!” added Steve.
“That’s the very thing!” said Barry. “A massive blood sacrifice on this land. It kicked off millenia of violence and bloodshed.”
“I saw like a hundred kids get into an ice cream truck!” exclaimed Christopher. “No way they could all fit in there. But I saw it! It was just - it was just last night.”
“The bad ice cream,” said Marie. “I tasted it and it made me want to get on the truck. Like my brain was being controlled!”
“So the Balatron lured kids onto the truck with that ice cream,” said Steve. “They somehow used Voiceless methods to...I don’t know...make space inside the truck. Then they took the truck to some time in the past and...”
“Threw the children to the lions,” said Barry. “You kids aren’t the first people to see things like that here. Ghosts and strange creatures simply appearing around town. Back when I was a very young man a demonic beast attacked a trolley car I was riding. Folks said it was the Jersey Devil. I believed so at the time, but now I know better.”
“How do we save them?” asked Marie. “How do we save Shelly?”
“I’m afraid it’s far, far too late for that, little girl. Your friend is long, long gone.”
“But we saw her and all of the other kids in school today!” said Christopher.
“No,” said Steve. “You didn’t see them. Those kids were Fetches. Like me. Changelings. Replacements for the real kids.”
“No!” cried Marie. “Shelly ain’t dead! I saw her TODAY.”
“But you saw her ghost tonight,” said Christopher. This only caused his sister to sob uncontrollably.
“Enough, kids!” commanded Lucy. “We don’t know what happened to Shelly or anyone else for certain. But we do know that the Balatron are out there. They’ve amassed a small army of the dead and they will kill us if we let them. Now we need to figure out how to make sure that doesn’t happen!”
“Well,” said Barry, “Like I said, we need to sop up the blood. Cleanse the land.”
“What are we supposed to do?” snapped Lucy, “Scrub the whole town with salt and seltzer water?”
“Salt, yes. It is an essential ingredient to dealing with unholy things.” he dashed to the back of the shop and popped back again, hefting a fifty pound bag of rock salt.
“Why do you have that?” asked Christopher.
“Winter is on its way, kid. If I slip and break something on an icy driveway, it’s lights out for ol’ Barry.”
“So, what are we supposed to do with that?” Marie asked, her face wet with tears.
“We need to go to the origin point.” said Barry.
“Origin point?” asked Steve. “Origin of what?”
“Everything.” Barry said, “The place where this blood sacrifice was held. The spot where the children were fed to the lions.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” said Christopher. “There aren’t any lions in Amon Heights!”
“Not now, no. But...” began Steve.
“But nothing!” said Christopher. “The last time there were lions in this part of the world was something like...twelve thousand years ago!”
“Well.” said Lucy, “Then the blood has soaked Amon Heights for a very very long time.”
“Hmmm...” mused Barry, “It’s an old stain. A deep dark stain of blood. So immersed into the soil that it’s impossible to tell where the violence ends and the land begins. Where would we even go to find the source of this blood ritual.”
In unison Lucy, Christopher, and Marie said, “The Blood Red House.”
“The what?” asked Barry.
“Our old house...on Cooperton Avenue.” Christopher explained. “Lucy used to live there too. It’s like a magnet for evil.”
“It’s where the Shower Curtain People live!” shouted Marie, “And I’ve seen ghosts there all the time!”
“So this house.” began Barry, “This house is where it starts? This house could be the...the nexus.”
“The what?” asked Marie.
“The center point!” explained Barry, “If we can cleanse this blood red house, maybe we can stop Alec once and for all. If we break his connection to our world, he won’t have any more power.”
“And what about the Voiceless?” asked Steve.
“What about them?” Barry returned.
“They’re not affiliated with Alec Chino. They aren’t really evil, are they? They’re just...alien. They don’t mean to hurt people.”
“So what?” said Christopher.
“So...if we destroy this...this nexus...if we break this connection to our world what happens to them?” asked Steve, “What happens to me?”
“Oh honey.” said Lucy. “I don’t think anything will happen to you. You aren’t really one of them.”
“But ain’t I?” said Steve, “At least in part?”
“I-I don’t know really.” said Lucy, “But if we don’t stop this raging host from destroying us it won’t matter what becomes of the Voiceless. What becomes of you or of Molly.”
"But that’s not fair” Steve said, “Molly, the Voiceless...me. We didn’t do anything wrong!”
Barry frowned, stroking his grizzled chin. “That’s a dangerous assumption, son. The Voiceless operate on a plane of understanding separate from ours. To them, our suffering might be little more than an experiment or a necessary side effect of their actions.”
Lucy interjected, her gaze distant. "Alec Chino and his unholy host are the threat. The Voiceless...Molly has always been my friend. My protector. But I’ve never truly understood her. Maybe the shadow people are just as bad as this Halloween freak show army."
Barry sighed. "That’s the gist of it, yeah. Alec is the enemy for sure - He’s looking to bring this entire town to its knees."
Christopher’s voice trembled as he spoke, “So what do we do?”
Lucy hefted the bag of salt onto her shoulder, “We go to the red house, and we end this. Once and for all.”
The children stared wide-eyed at the ragtag group of adults they had stumbled into this nightmare with, while outside the shop, the mist began to thicken once more, swirling like a hungry maw ready to devour them all.
"Okay," Lucy said, breaking the tense silence. "So, we take the salt, we go to the house, and we... what? Sprinkle it around? Perform some kind of ritual?"
Barry nodded, a glint in his eye. “Yes, and I have just the thing. We’ll need to spread the salt across the house’s foundation—inside and out. But more than that, we’ll need something to bind the spirits, something to keep them from slipping away.”
“I have an old rosary,” Lucy offered. “From my grandma. Will that help?”
Barry shook his head. “It’s not about religious symbols. We need something personal. Something connected to the land itself.”
“The blood,” Steve said, understanding dawning on him. “You want to use the blood.”
“Exactly,” Barry replied. “We need to access it, mix it with the salt, and perform the binding.”
Christopher gulped. “How do we...get the blood?”
Barry’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got a way.”
He disappeared behind the counter again and rummaged through piles of old books, jars, and strange trinkets, finally pulling out a small, jagged blade wrapped in a worn leather sheath.
“You’re not going to cut us, are you?” Marie asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“No, no, little girl. This isn’t for you.” Barry held the blade up to the dim light, the metal glinting ominously. “This is for the earth. The soil around your blood red house. We’ll use this to draw the blood from the ground.”
Lucy crossed her arms, skeptical. “And this will work? Do you really think the ground will...frigging bleed?”
“It’s worked before,” Barry said simply. “Trust me.”
The group gathered their supplies— salt, the strange blade, and Lucy’s duffel bag full of weapons. The weight of what they were about to do hung heavy in the air.
As they stepped back outside into the cold, misty night, the town lay quiet around them, but the darkness felt different now, more oppressive. The ghostly figures from before were gone, but the atmosphere still crackled with unnatural energy, as if the night sky was holding its breath, waiting.
“We’ll need to move fast,” Lucy said, glancing at the sky. The red clouds still swirled above, ominous and foreboding. “The wild hunt won’t be far behind.”
They piled into the car once more, speeding down the mist-covered streets towards Cooperton Avenue. The blood red house loomed ahead, a dark silhouette in the fog, its windows black and lifeless.
When they arrived the house, with its peeling red paint and loose shingles, looked like a living thing, watching them approach.
“I hate this place,” Marie whispered, clutching Christopher’s arm.
“You’re not the only one,” Lucy muttered, stepping out of the car. She threw the duffel bag over her shoulder and gestured to the others. “Let’s get this over with.”
They approached the front yard cautiously, the mist swirling around their feet. As they reached the front porch, the ground beneath them seemed to tremble like they were walking on the back of a gargantuan beast.
Barry knelt down by the base of the porch and pulled out the blade. “Alright, this is the spot,” he said, voice low. “We’ll need to cut deep enough to reach the blood. Spread the salt once I’ve made the cuts.”
With a swift motion, Barry plunged the blade into the soil. The earth hissed as the blade sank in, and for a moment, nothing happened. But then, slowly, a dark, viscous liquid began to seep up from the ground.
“Is that…real blood?” Christopher whispered, his face pale.
“Looks like it,” Barry said, satisfied. “Quick, spread the salt.”
Lucy, Steve, and the kids moved fast, scattering the rock salt in wide arcs around the perimeter of the house.
As they worked, the wind picked up, howling through the trees, and the mist thickened. Shadows began to move at the edges of their vision, and faint whispers filled the air.
“They’re coming,” Steve said, his voice tight with fear. “We need to hurry.”
Barry stood up, his hands coated in the blood-soaked soil. “The binding’s almost done. Just a little longer.”
But as the last of the salt was spread, a deep, guttural roar echoed from the street. The raging host had found them.
Ghostly figures emerged from the bushes that enclosed the yard, their hollow eyes locked on the group, and spectral lions stalked forward, their claws scraping the ground.
Lucy gripped her revolver tightly, her heart pounding. “Get inside the house! Now!”
Christopher still had his key from before they’d moved away. He pushed it into the lock with his jittering fingers and threw the door open. They rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind them. The sound of pounding and scraping against the walls and windows echoed through the house.
“What now?” Christopher asked, his voice cracking.
Barry knelt in the center of the room, drawing a circle with the blood-soaked salt. “We hold them off. The binding will take a few minutes to fully settle.”
From above him, on the staircase, came the sound of a shotgun being cocked.
“What the FUCK are you doing in my house?” shouted Jack Murphy, father of Christopher and Marie.
“Daddy!” called Marie. “You still LIVE here?”
Jack pointed the gun downward, “Marie? Christopher? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Dad! What are YOU doing here?” asked Christopher. “There’s no furniture. No lights.”
“Your goddamn mother took everything when she left me for that dago.”
“Sir,” began Lucy, “I’m sorry to intrude, but we aren’t safe here. We didn’t know anyone was-”
“You’re that dyke from down the street ain’t ya?” interrupted Jack, “What are you and this old pedophile doing with my kids?”
“I-we-um” started Lucy, but she couldn’t find the words.
“Buddy,” said Barry, “Sorry for the intrusion. We didn’t realize your abode was inhabited. But right now, we and everyone else are in grave danger.”
“The only one in danger is you ‘buddy’, unless you get away from my fuckin’ kids.” said Jack as he leveled the shotgun at Barry.
The wind howled as the front door shook violently, and the wood began to splinter.
“What the?” gasped Jack from the stairs as the door blew inwards and broke into a million pieces, knocking everyone but him onto the floor.
Alec Chino, stepped calmly into the battered foyer of the house. Barry got up to his knees, his brow furrowing in disbelief.
“How?” Barry muttered, his hands quaking.
Alec smirked. “Your little ‘magic’ trinkets have no effect on us. Who do you think gave them to you?”
Before Barry could respond, chaos erupted. Jack Murphy, ever the fighter, lunged at Alec with a determined roar, swinging his fists in a blind fury. But Alec was too quick. He sidestepped the attack with practiced ease, delivering a sharp blow to Jack’s side that sent him sprawling to the ground.
“You!” said Jack, “You’re the bastard that cut my ear off! I recognize that cheap suit! You took my wife’s baby! You made everything go wrong.”
Stepping over Jack, Alec barely looked down to say, “I told you then as I tell you now, you are the cause of all your own problems.”
Barry, distracted by Jack's fall, barely had time to react as Alec approached Steve, who stood paralyzed with fear. Alec’s eyes gleamed with a dark purpose as he reached toward the boy.
“Stop this!” Barry cried, his voice thick with panic.
“Don’t you see?” Alec said, his voice low and filled with a strange, eerie calm. “This little fetch, this Steve is the key. He always has been.”
Barry glanced at Steve, the boy’s eyes wide and scared, “What do you mean, he’s the key?”
Alec took a deep breath, as though savoring the moment, and placed his hands over either side of Steve’s head.
A gun cocked behind him. “Drop the kid, now” said Lucy.
“Or what?” said Alec, not even acknowledging the pistol barrel against his temple. “Are you going to shoot me? You know that conventional weapons can’t-”
The Raging Host
(note - this episode takes place immediately after episode 015 - The Day After)
November 1982
“Ok, kids,” said Lucy, “It’s time for you to go home!”
“But-” stammered Christopher, “What’s going on? Who’s Alec Chino?”
“Alec Chino is just one name he uses. He’s their leader. The Balatron. He’s the Harlequin...the wild huntsman...the-”
“Hell Kin.” said Marie, “That’s what you called him. He’s the devil.”
“Well,” said Lucy, “I don’t know about THE devil, but yeah, he might as well be. You kids need to get home and Steven and I are leaving now.”
“What happened to your shadow?” asked Christopher.
Lucy looked down at herself.
“Molly. Her name is Molly. And she’s gone. For now at least. Hopefully she’ll come back. She always has before.”
Lucy opened up a closet and pulled out a big duffel bag. Reaching in she gripped two revolvers, checked the chambers on each and handed one to Steve before placing the other back in the bag which she slung over her shoulder.
“WHAT?” exclaimed Marie and Christopher in unison.
“Sorry kids.” Lucy told them, “I didn’t bring enough guns for everyone.”
“Umm...that’s OK.” said Christopher. “I don’t think our mom would want us shooting people anyway.”
“Well,” Lucy told the kids, “I can give you a ride home, at least. It must be close to your dinner time.”
“What time is it?” asked Marie, “It’s so dark out.”
“It’s almost five o’clock-” Lucy started as she opened the front door, stopping speechless upon seeing the world outside.
Dark red clouds filled the sky, blotting out the already setting sun. A cold mist rolled silently down Cooperton Avenue wrapping itself around the houses like greedy fingers. It filled the street.
“What’s happening?” said Marie.
“Umm,” Lucy said, “It’s just a bit foggy out. Let’s get in the car.” As she stepped out onto the walkway through her tree-shrouded yard, the street lights flickered and died, plunging the neighborhood into a darkness broken only by the silvery glow of the mist lit by the rising moon.
The faint sound of unearthly whispers filled the air.
Ghostly figures emerged from the mist - apparitions of children clad in the tattered remnants of halloween costumes and false faces depicting grotesque grins, eyes hollow and wide like bottomless pits.They moved with a jerky, unnatural cadence, their laughter like the clinking of broken glass. Among them prowled spectral, beastly lions. The eyes of the great cats glowed with fire and their maws dripped with the essence of nightmares. They advanced along Cooperton like a ghoulish parade.
Lucy tightened her grip on the duffel bag,"Get behind me, kids. Stay close."
A figure emerged at the forefront of the ghostly procession, towering above the rest. In a suit of red with black diamond pattern and a mask that sported a comically long nose, he stepped forward.
"Lucy Raymond," Alec's voice boomed, "it's time to finish what we started. I have come for the key."
Lucy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the revolver at her side. She turned to the kids, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her. "We just have to get to the car. Together."
Quivering, Marie and Christopher followed Steve and Lucy to the driveway.
The Raging Host moved like a storm, a swirling force of ghostly children and strange beasts ripping through the quiet suburban night. Windows shattered, doors burst open, and the very ground seemed to tremble under their ethereal weight.
The air grew colder as Alec calmly stepped toward Lucy’s yard, his eyes glowing with malevolent delight.
"Stay close and move quickly." said Lucy, brandishing her gun in the direction of the chaos.
The children nodded, and together they made their way down the walkway, their footsteps silent against the howling storm. As they reached the edge of the yard, one of the wraithlike children lunged forward, its face twisted in a ghastly grin. Lucy fired, the gunshot ringing out. The apparition dissipated into the mist, but more took its place, their laughter echoing across the darkened neighborhood.
Alec Chino watched them with an amused smile, his eyes gleaming. "You can't escape, Lucy. The hunt is upon you!”
Ignoring his taunts, Lucy led the children to the car, throwing open the doors and pushing them inside. She took one last look at the advancing host before climbing into the driver's seat, then started the engine and slammed her foot on the gas, speeding away from the house.
The mist followed them, clinging to the car like a spiderweb, but the spectral figures faded into the darkness. Lucy clutched the steering wheel, her eyes scanning the road ahead.
"We can't go home," Christopher said suddenly. "They'll find us there."
“I don’t think they’re after you.” said Lucy.
“What are they after?” cried Marie.
“A long time ago Alec attacked me because he was looking for the key.” Lucy told the kids.
Tires screeched as she swerved the car sharply to avoid a shadowy figure dashing across the road.
“The key?” Christopher asked, his voice shaky. “Key to what?”
Darting down Cooperton, Lucy took a sharp left on 44th street. The mist twisted and pursued them.
“It’s from an old book. The key was an alchemist's attempt at understanding the Voiceless. He created symbols that converted their way of doing things into something humans could...use.”
Lucy reached Westfield Ave. But her path was blocked by a swarm of phantasms.
“Where are you even going?” asked Steve.
“Barry’s.”
“Who the fuck is Barry?” Steve cursed at her.
“LANGUAGE!” she berated.
A shadowy feline predator the size of a bear jumped on the hood of the car. A crowd of spectral children gathered around, encircling them. Among them stood familiar faces from school and the neighborhood all dressed in Halloween costumes.
“Shelly!” shouted Marie at a ghostly child who resembled her friend from school, Michelle Cohen, wearing the princess costume she’d worn the previous Friday at the school Halloween party. Her eyeless face pressed up against the car window.
Marie started to roll her window down, but Christopher grabbed her hand.
“Stop!” she said to her brother as she wriggled out of his grasp. “Shelly’s hurt. She needs help!”
“That’s not Shelly!” said Christopher. “That’s a ghost...or something.”
The car shifted as the great cat climbed on top of it, the weight of the creature causing the roof to sag.
“It’s gonna squish us!” Marie cried, tears running down her face.
The spirit children gathered closer to the vehicle and began pounding on it as more animals descended.
“Step on the gas!” said Steve.
“What?” gasped Lucy. “We’re surrounded.”
“Just do it!”
Lucy did as Steve commanded. The tires spun out for a moment on the road but the car started moving.
“Harder!” Steve shouted.
Lucy gunned it and the car pushed through the cluster of apparitions as if it were driving through gelatin. Progress was slow, but they were moving.
Marie broke entirely free of Christopher’s hand and rolled the window down again, trying to reach out to the specter of Shelly, but it was too late. The car had moved away from her. Another ghost in the crowd peered in through the window. An older boy dressed in a football uniform complete with helmet leaned toward her. He seemed to be trying to grab at her, but both of his arms ended in mutilated stumps, as if his hands had been bitten off.
Before she could register what she saw, a gigantic paw with long, razor sharp claws came batting into the window from above as the ghostly lion on the roof of the car made its strike.
Marie screamed in terror as the car accelerated and careened around the bend on to Westfield Avenue, throwing the incorporeal beast clear off of the vehicle. Once clear of the throng of ghosts they gained speed quickly and were soon a few blocks down the road. The host and the mists faded into the rearview mirror.
“Are we safe now?” asked Christopher.
“I don’t know.” said Lucy.
“Where are we even going?” asked Steve.
“Somewhere safe, I hope.” she replied.
They arrived at a small building tucked away at the end of a narrow alley. A faded sign above the door read “Barry’s Occult Shop.” Lucy parked the car and quickly ushered the kids inside, locking the door behind them before the chime bell had even finished ringing.
Emerging from behind a beaded curtain, the oldest man the kids had ever seen entered the room, with a lean, hunched frame, and a face etched with deep lines and covered with several days of bristly white stubble. The man pierced them with his icy gray eyes. He wore a thread-worn old bathrobe that might once have been royal blue over a tank top and pajama pants. Around his neck hung several amulets and charms covered in esoteric symbols.
“Lucy? What are you doing here at this hour?” he grumbled.
“It’s only a quarter after five!” she responded.
“Is it then?” the man said as he peered out the window. Between ominous red clouds the full moon had already begun to rise in the eastern sky. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Who is this guy?” Marie piped up to Lucy.
“This is Barry. Of Barry’s Occult Shop. Surely you’ve heard of this place.”
“I heard of it.” said Christopher. “My big brother, Johnny, told me about it. He said it’s for devil worshippers. He bought some incest here once.”
“I’m sure he meant incense.” corrected Lucy.
“Yeah. It smelled funny.”
Steve whispered in frustration. “Lucy, we need to get away from here. We already have these two kids with us and now you want us to drag a hundred year old man along?”
“Ninety-one as of last month.” said Barry, “I’m what they call a Virgo-Libra cusp. That means I never miss a detail and I keep it together when the rest of the world is falling to shit. Miss Lucy here brought you to my shop for a reason, and she’s nobody’s fool, so chances are you brats are in a mess and you need the kind of help that only old Barry can getcha.”
“It’s Chino, Barry.” said Lucy. “He’s here and he’s brought the wild hunt. Ghost children. A sky turned red. The whole thing. Like. End days shit.”
“Bah.” said Barry. “That guy’s all hot air. Did I ever tell you about how I got out of my contract with him?”
“We don’t have time for old stories, Barry. We need to put a stop to this. Quick.”
“You need to soak up the blood.”
“What?” asked Steve.
“The blood.” Barry said, “This whole damn town is built on blood. The whole country really, but especially here. Spilt time and time again over the ages. All the way back to the beginning. This land has been haunted since before the Lenape lived here. They called it Pemsithoking (Pem-sit-hau-ken)* - the walker’s land. Sensitive souls from before the coming of white folk and after often have visions of the dead here. Specters of loved ones who met violent ends, remnants of Revolutionary War soldiers, ghosts of children slaughtered by beasts in ages long gone by.”
“I saw that!” said Marie. “My friend, Shelly got eaten by a lion!”
“We all saw it.” said Christopher.
“No! I mean. A long time ago. She visited me in my dreams. When the shower- umm- when I saw a ghost.”
“Wait. The shower curtain people are real, aren’t they?” asked a shocked Christopher.
“The what people?” asked Steve.
“Shower curtain...ghosts that live in the walls of our house. I used to make fun of Marie for seeing them.”
“YOU STILL DO!”
“Well, that was before all...this.” Christopher said, waving his arms around. “So, when you saw the shadow people in the walls...that was...”
“The Voiceless.” said Lucy.
“But why did I see a ghost of Shelly? She’s not dead. I saw her in school TODAY.”
“Time travel.” said Barry, plainly.
“Oh come on now.” scoffed Lucy.
“You and I have both seen stranger things than that.” Barry said. “The Voiceless. Their ways. Their technology for want of a better word. It’s all about manipulating dimensions. Time is a dimension. It’s not much of a stretch to think they can move back and forth along it.”
“So,” Lucy said, “you think the clowns took the children back in time and...fed them to the lions? Like ancient Romans persecuting Christians?”
“Like a sacrifice!” added Steve.
“That’s the very thing!” said Barry. “A massive blood sacrifice on this land. It kicked off millenia of violence and bloodshed.”
“I saw like a hundred kids get into an ice cream truck!” exclaimed Christopher. “No way they could all fit in there. But I saw it! It was just - it was just last night.”
“The bad ice cream,” said Marie. “I tasted it and it made me want to get on the truck. Like my brain was being controlled!”
“So the Balatron lured kids onto the truck with that ice cream,” said Steve. “They somehow used Voiceless methods to...I don’t know...make space inside the truck. Then they took the truck to some time in the past and...”
“Threw the children to the lions,” said Barry. “You kids aren’t the first people to see things like that here. Ghosts and strange creatures simply appearing around town. Back when I was a very young man a demonic beast attacked a trolley car I was riding. Folks said it was the Jersey Devil. I believed so at the time, but now I know better.”
“How do we save them?” asked Marie. “How do we save Shelly?”
“I’m afraid it’s far, far too late for that, little girl. Your friend is long, long gone.”
“But we saw her and all of the other kids in school today!” said Christopher.
“No,” said Steve. “You didn’t see them. Those kids were Fetches. Like me. Changelings. Replacements for the real kids.”
“No!” cried Marie. “Shelly ain’t dead! I saw her TODAY.”
“But you saw her ghost tonight,” said Christopher. This only caused his sister to sob uncontrollably.
“Enough, kids!” commanded Lucy. “We don’t know what happened to Shelly or anyone else for certain. But we do know that the Balatron are out there. They’ve amassed a small army of the dead and they will kill us if we let them. Now we need to figure out how to make sure that doesn’t happen!”
“Well,” said Barry, “Like I said, we need to sop up the blood. Cleanse the land.”
“What are we supposed to do?” snapped Lucy, “Scrub the whole town with salt and seltzer water?”
“Salt, yes. It is an essential ingredient to dealing with unholy things.” he dashed to the back of the shop and popped back again, hefting a fifty pound bag of rock salt.
“Why do you have that?” asked Christopher.
“Winter is on its way, kid. If I slip and break something on an icy driveway, it’s lights out for ol’ Barry.”
“So, what are we supposed to do with that?” Marie asked, her face wet with tears.
“We need to go to the origin point.” said Barry.
“Origin point?” asked Steve. “Origin of what?”
“Everything.” Barry said, “The place where this blood sacrifice was held. The spot where the children were fed to the lions.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” said Christopher. “There aren’t any lions in Amon Heights!”
“Not now, no. But...” began Steve.
“But nothing!” said Christopher. “The last time there were lions in this part of the world was something like...twelve thousand years ago!”
“Well.” said Lucy, “Then the blood has soaked Amon Heights for a very very long time.”
“Hmmm...” mused Barry, “It’s an old stain. A deep dark stain of blood. So immersed into the soil that it’s impossible to tell where the violence ends and the land begins. Where would we even go to find the source of this blood ritual.”
In unison Lucy, Christopher, and Marie said, “The Blood Red House.”
“The what?” asked Barry.
“Our old house...on Cooperton Avenue.” Christopher explained. “Lucy used to live there too. It’s like a magnet for evil.”
“It’s where the Shower Curtain People live!” shouted Marie, “And I’ve seen ghosts there all the time!”
“So this house.” began Barry, “This house is where it starts? This house could be the...the nexus.”
“The what?” asked Marie.
“The center point!” explained Barry, “If we can cleanse this blood red house, maybe we can stop Alec once and for all. If we break his connection to our world, he won’t have any more power.”
“And what about the Voiceless?” asked Steve.
“What about them?” Barry returned.
“They’re not affiliated with Alec Chino. They aren’t really evil, are they? They’re just...alien. They don’t mean to hurt people.”
“So what?” said Christopher.
“So...if we destroy this...this nexus...if we break this connection to our world what happens to them?” asked Steve, “What happens to me?”
“Oh honey.” said Lucy. “I don’t think anything will happen to you. You aren’t really one of them.”
“But ain’t I?” said Steve, “At least in part?”
“I-I don’t know really.” said Lucy, “But if we don’t stop this raging host from destroying us it won’t matter what becomes of the Voiceless. What becomes of you or of Molly.”
"But that’s not fair” Steve said, “Molly, the Voiceless...me. We didn’t do anything wrong!”
Barry frowned, stroking his grizzled chin. “That’s a dangerous assumption, son. The Voiceless operate on a plane of understanding separate from ours. To them, our suffering might be little more than an experiment or a necessary side effect of their actions.”
Lucy interjected, her gaze distant. "Alec Chino and his unholy host are the threat. The Voiceless...Molly has always been my friend. My protector. But I’ve never truly understood her. Maybe the shadow people are just as bad as this Halloween freak show army."
Barry sighed. "That’s the gist of it, yeah. Alec is the enemy for sure - He’s looking to bring this entire town to its knees."
Christopher’s voice trembled as he spoke, “So what do we do?”
Lucy hefted the bag of salt onto her shoulder, “We go to the red house, and we end this. Once and for all.”
The children stared wide-eyed at the ragtag group of adults they had stumbled into this nightmare with, while outside the shop, the mist began to thicken once more, swirling like a hungry maw ready to devour them all.
"Okay," Lucy said, breaking the tense silence. "So, we take the salt, we go to the house, and we... what? Sprinkle it around? Perform some kind of ritual?"
Barry nodded, a glint in his eye. “Yes, and I have just the thing. We’ll need to spread the salt across the house’s foundation—inside and out. But more than that, we’ll need something to bind the spirits, something to keep them from slipping away.”
“I have an old rosary,” Lucy offered. “From my grandma. Will that help?”
Barry shook his head. “It’s not about religious symbols. We need something personal. Something connected to the land itself.”
“The blood,” Steve said, understanding dawning on him. “You want to use the blood.”
“Exactly,” Barry replied. “We need to access it, mix it with the salt, and perform the binding.”
Christopher gulped. “How do we...get the blood?”
Barry’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got a way.”
He disappeared behind the counter again and rummaged through piles of old books, jars, and strange trinkets, finally pulling out a small, jagged blade wrapped in a worn leather sheath.
“You’re not going to cut us, are you?” Marie asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“No, no, little girl. This isn’t for you.” Barry held the blade up to the dim light, the metal glinting ominously. “This is for the earth. The soil around your blood red house. We’ll use this to draw the blood from the ground.”
Lucy crossed her arms, skeptical. “And this will work? Do you really think the ground will...frigging bleed?”
“It’s worked before,” Barry said simply. “Trust me.”
The group gathered their supplies— salt, the strange blade, and Lucy’s duffel bag full of weapons. The weight of what they were about to do hung heavy in the air.
As they stepped back outside into the cold, misty night, the town lay quiet around them, but the darkness felt different now, more oppressive. The ghostly figures from before were gone, but the atmosphere still crackled with unnatural energy, as if the night sky was holding its breath, waiting.
“We’ll need to move fast,” Lucy said, glancing at the sky. The red clouds still swirled above, ominous and foreboding. “The wild hunt won’t be far behind.”
They piled into the car once more, speeding down the mist-covered streets towards Cooperton Avenue. The blood red house loomed ahead, a dark silhouette in the fog, its windows black and lifeless.
When they arrived the house, with its peeling red paint and loose shingles, looked like a living thing, watching them approach.
“I hate this place,” Marie whispered, clutching Christopher’s arm.
“You’re not the only one,” Lucy muttered, stepping out of the car. She threw the duffel bag over her shoulder and gestured to the others. “Let’s get this over with.”
They approached the front yard cautiously, the mist swirling around their feet. As they reached the front porch, the ground beneath them seemed to tremble like they were walking on the back of a gargantuan beast.
Barry knelt down by the base of the porch and pulled out the blade. “Alright, this is the spot,” he said, voice low. “We’ll need to cut deep enough to reach the blood. Spread the salt once I’ve made the cuts.”
With a swift motion, Barry plunged the blade into the soil. The earth hissed as the blade sank in, and for a moment, nothing happened. But then, slowly, a dark, viscous liquid began to seep up from the ground.
“Is that…real blood?” Christopher whispered, his face pale.
“Looks like it,” Barry said, satisfied. “Quick, spread the salt.”
Lucy, Steve, and the kids moved fast, scattering the rock salt in wide arcs around the perimeter of the house.
As they worked, the wind picked up, howling through the trees, and the mist thickened. Shadows began to move at the edges of their vision, and faint whispers filled the air.
“They’re coming,” Steve said, his voice tight with fear. “We need to hurry.”
Barry stood up, his hands coated in the blood-soaked soil. “The binding’s almost done. Just a little longer.”
But as the last of the salt was spread, a deep, guttural roar echoed from the street. The raging host had found them.
Ghostly figures emerged from the bushes that enclosed the yard, their hollow eyes locked on the group, and spectral lions stalked forward, their claws scraping the ground.
Lucy gripped her revolver tightly, her heart pounding. “Get inside the house! Now!”
Christopher still had his key from before they’d moved away. He pushed it into the lock with his jittering fingers and threw the door open. They rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind them. The sound of pounding and scraping against the walls and windows echoed through the house.
“What now?” Christopher asked, his voice cracking.
Barry knelt in the center of the room, drawing a circle with the blood-soaked salt. “We hold them off. The binding will take a few minutes to fully settle.”
From above him, on the staircase, came the sound of a shotgun being cocked.
“What the FUCK are you doing in my house?” shouted Jack Murphy, father of Christopher and Marie.
“Daddy!” called Marie. “You still LIVE here?”
Jack pointed the gun downward, “Marie? Christopher? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Dad! What are YOU doing here?” asked Christopher. “There’s no furniture. No lights.”
“Your goddamn mother took everything when she left me for that dago.”
“Sir,” began Lucy, “I’m sorry to intrude, but we aren’t safe here. We didn’t know anyone was-”
“You’re that dyke from down the street ain’t ya?” interrupted Jack, “What are you and this old pedophile doing with my kids?”
“I-we-um” started Lucy, but she couldn’t find the words.
“Buddy,” said Barry, “Sorry for the intrusion. We didn’t realize your abode was inhabited. But right now, we and everyone else are in grave danger.”
“The only one in danger is you ‘buddy’, unless you get away from my fuckin’ kids.” said Jack as he leveled the shotgun at Barry.
The wind howled as the front door shook violently, and the wood began to splinter.
“What the?” gasped Jack from the stairs as the door blew inwards and broke into a million pieces, knocking everyone but him onto the floor.
Alec Chino, stepped calmly into the battered foyer of the house. Barry got up to his knees, his brow furrowing in disbelief.
“How?” Barry muttered, his hands quaking.
Alec smirked. “Your little ‘magic’ trinkets have no effect on us. Who do you think gave them to you?”
Before Barry could respond, chaos erupted. Jack Murphy, ever the fighter, lunged at Alec with a determined roar, swinging his fists in a blind fury. But Alec was too quick. He sidestepped the attack with practiced ease, delivering a sharp blow to Jack’s side that sent him sprawling to the ground.
“You!” said Jack, “You’re the bastard that cut my ear off! I recognize that cheap suit! You took my wife’s baby! You made everything go wrong.”
Stepping over Jack, Alec barely looked down to say, “I told you then as I tell you now, you are the cause of all your own problems.”
Barry, distracted by Jack's fall, barely had time to react as Alec approached Steve, who stood paralyzed with fear. Alec’s eyes gleamed with a dark purpose as he reached toward the boy.
“Stop this!” Barry cried, his voice thick with panic.
“Don’t you see?” Alec said, his voice low and filled with a strange, eerie calm. “This little fetch, this Steve is the key. He always has been.”
Barry glanced at Steve, the boy’s eyes wide and scared, “What do you mean, he’s the key?”
Alec took a deep breath, as though savoring the moment, and placed his hands over either side of Steve’s head.
A gun cocked behind him. “Drop the kid, now” said Lucy.
“Or what?” said Alec, not even acknowledging the pistol barrel against his temple. “Are you going to shoot me? You know that conventional weapons can’t-”
BANG!
She blew the mask off his face. Alec Chino, the hell kin, leader of the wild hunt turned to look at her. His face had been split down the middle by the gunshot, one half solid black, the other soaked red with blood. His eyes big and round and white, the size of golf balls.
Lucy staggered backward as Alec grew larger. His arms and legs elongated, the black and red diamond pattern of his suit, stretching with them. Out of nowhere he produced a weapon, two thin slats of wood connected by a hinge. With it he backhanded her across the jaw. The strange club clacked as it struck her, producing an almost comically exaggerated slapping noise. Lucy dropped to the ground.
Alec turned back to face Steve as Christopher and Marie screamed in fear. Steve stood still as if mesmerized.
Jack Murphy tackled the stretched out harlequin, dragging him to the floor and started punching him in his already bloody face.
Blow after blow from Jack’s meaty fists rained down on Alec, but each strike only caused him to laugh louder and louder.
“Enough!” shouted Alec in a booming voice that seemingly caused a shockwave, scattering everyone else around the room. All except for himself and Steve. The latter remained standing stock still, as if frozen in place by an unseen force.
Returning to normal human proportions, Alec Chino once more put his hands on Steve’s head.
Lucy tried to reach out to the young boy she’d nearly adopted as Steve cried out in pain.
In a flash Steve was split in half, right down the center, his bones, and organs laid visible as each hemisphere of Steve fell to the ground in a gory heap.
Marie vomited on the spot and Christopher broke down in tears, sobbing uncontrollably. Lucy ran to where the boy had been standing a moment ago, but stopped short at the indiscernible pile of viscera and tried to look away.
Standing where Steve had been was a shadow, like Molly, except not like her at all. This shadow was...solid...three dimensional in a way Molly had never been.
“What are you?” whispered Lucy, in awe.
“And now,” Alec said, his voice echoing unnaturally, “the real fun begins.”
*note - this is made up by the author. There is no known Lenape legend involving this name. Amon Heights is a fictionalized version of the real township of Pennsauken, but the accepted origin of the town’s name is the Lenape word “Pindachsenacan” for “tobacco pouch”.
The new episode of Nothing Is Wrong will be up on Monday!
This is the end of season two and will mark a hiatus of the series for a little while.
But that doesn't mean no more podcasts from me! No Sir.
Soon I am going to record a new series - a podcast adaptation of my unfinished novel "A Bird for a Heart". If that goes well I will also be doing audio versions of "The Diary of Wartha Gormley" and possibly even "Duskworld".
This could be the start of my audio narrative empire! Or maybe not. We'll see!
Episode 019
The Shower Curtain People
September 1980
“Take a bath.” said Mom, “You smell like a polecat!”
Marie hadn’t bathed in two days. “Can you come with me?”
“I gotta make dinner.” said Mom, “You’re six years old. You can take a bath on your own. I’ll start the water for you.”
Mom ran the bath and led Marie to the tub. “Be sure to wash behind your ears. Daddy will be home in a little bit. When you come down, dinner will be on the table.”
Marie didn’t like being alone in the house, especially in the bathroom. There were always...noises...and...shadows.
One night she woke up screaming because there were lions growling in the hallway outside her room. When mommy finally came she said it was just her brothers snoring in the other room. But Marie knew what she heard. Marie knew what she saw.
The house had eyes. Faces in all of the walls. Sad faces, angry ones, but mostly faces in pain. She talked about it once with her brother Christopher.
“I don’t like the boy that stares at me when I eat my Cheerios” she told him. “He has scary eyes.”
“That’s just your mind playing tricks on you.” said Christopher. He didn’t know the word “pareidolia”, but he understood the concept. “Anything can look like a face.”
“But it scares me.” she said.
“Everything scares you.”
Marie sat in the tub for a minute before it dawned on her that Mommy had forgotten the bubbles. There had to be bubbles for her to take a bath. It just wasn’t a bath without them.
The bottle of bubble bath mix sat at the other end of the tub, behind the shower curtain. Marie got up on her knees to wade over to it when she caught motion through the corner of her eye. A silhouette on the curtain as if a person were standing behind it.
“Christopher!” she said, “Get out you queerdo! I’m in the tub!”
No response came, but the figure moved to one side as another appeared next to it.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice cracking in fear. The shadowy figures remained silent.
“Chris...Johnny?” she said, hoping to hear one of her brothers own up to goofing around in the bathroom. Still hearing no answer, Marie poked her head around the shower curtain only to find no one standing there.
Trembling slightly, Marie reached for the bottle of bubble bath, her fingers shaking as she poured it into the water. The familiar scent of the pink liquid filled the air, but it offered little comfort against the chill that had settled over her.
Steeling herself, Marie looked once more at the curtain. The two shadowy shapes remained in plain view. One had assumed a crouching position as if it were trying to look her in the eye.
“Who are you?” she cried. “What do you want?”
The figure on the left moved. It held up a hand as if reaching out to her. Marie’s eyes grew wide and she jumped out of the tub, barely stopping to grab her bathrobe and ran downstairs at full clip.
“Mommmmmy!” she screamed all the way to the kitchen.
“What the frig are you doing?” asked mom. “You’re bare ass naked!”
“I have my robe!”
“Honey, I put your pajamas on the hamper in the bathroom. Go get ‘em”
“Un-uh” said Marie. “I ain’t goin’ up there again.”
“Fine. Eat in your robe. We’re having spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Yay! Puh-sgetti!” Marie exclaimed, promptly forgetting about her experience in the bathroom.
Christopher went to use the toilet and noticed the tub almost overflowing. Not wanting to get in trouble for it, he turned off the tap and pulled out the drain plug. As he sat on the bowl, Christopher heard a noise coming from the hallway. It sounded like the low growl of a jungle cat- a sound he’d only ever heard in movies. It startled him for a moment until he heard the gurgle of the last of the water draining from the bathtub. Obviously that must have been what he’d heard the whole time. Christopher quickly finished his business and slipped off to his room to play with his Micronauts until Mom called him down for dinner.
Dad was only a little drunk when he got home and the family had a peaceful dinner. Afterwards, they watched a Muppet Show rerun featuring Brooke Shields as Alice in Wonderland. Marie dozed off and Dad carried her to bed.
In the dark of night, the sound of a creaky floorboard stirred her from slumber. She pulled the blanket over her head for protection, but could still hear the sound.
“Who’s there?” She called out.
“Marie?” responded a familiar voice. It sounded like her classmate, Michelle.
“Shelly?” she called out her friend’s nickname, “Why are you in my house?”
“Marie! It’s you. I’m in the woods! The lions are coming! They got all the other kids. I’m hiding!”
“Shelly.” said Marie, pulling the cover off her head, “Don’t be silly, you’re in my house. Not the woods.”
Standing silhouetted in her doorway Marie saw her friend wreathed in the light from the hall. She wore a princess dress, complete with tiara.
“Shelly? What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to go trick or treat!” said Michelle. “The ice cream man drove us out to the woods.”
“You’re scaring me.” Marie said, tears already welling up in her eyes.
“Be quiet.” whispered Michelle, “Or they’ll hear us.”
“Who’ll hear us?”
“The lions.”
“You see the lions too? I knew it.” said Marie, vindicated in spite of the uncanny feeling creeping over her.
Marie patted her bed, “C’mere, Shel. Come sit and be safe with me.”
“Marie? I didn’t see you on the truck? Why are you here?”
“I live here, silly.” said Marie, “This is MY house you’re in.”
“It’s not a house. It’s a cold cold forest. We’re lost Marie. They got them all. I’m the only one left.”
“Don’t be so sad, come sit with me.” Marie implored. “We can have a sleepover! My mommy makes pancakes sometimes!”
“Marie!” gasped Michelle, “Marie, where are you? I can’t see you no more!”
“I’m right here in front of you!”
“MARIE?!” the other girl shouted. “MARIEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!” her call turning into a scream.
Marie climbed out of the bed and approached Michelle, grabbing her hand. Pulling her friend closer, Marie saw Michelle’s face.
Her eyes were black and hollow sockets, her face soaked red with blood.
Marie tried to scream for her mother but her voice came out only as a squeak.
She stumbled backwards, tripping over a toy and landed on her back.
Tears streamed down Marie’s face as she lay there with her eyes clamped shut, but the image of her friend’s dead face remained burned into her eyelids.
Marie felt a hot breath on her cheek. Opening her eyes she saw a dark shape above her.
The lion! She thought, but she couldn’t move, paralyzed with fear.
The beast towered over her and sniffed Marie’s hair. It didn’t look like lions in picture books or movies. It had no mane on its head and gazed down at her with wide eyes, its maw stained with a dark red liquid.
Don’t eat me. Don’t eat me. Don’t eat me don’t eat me donteatmedonteatmedonteatme! She said over and over in her mind.
The lion nudged her with its bloody snout, then opened its jaws to chomp down on her.
Marie closed her eyes and winced in fear, waiting for the beast to strike.
Her fear was suddenly interrupted by the rushing roar of the toilet flushing.
Opening her eyes once more, Marie saw that the lion had disappeared and gazing into the hall could see her big brother, Johnny, stepping out of the bathroom.
“Johnny!” she yelped.
The young teenager spun around to see Marie splayed out on the floor.
“Did you fall out of bed?” he asked her.
“No. Shelly was here, but her face was all red and there was a lion and and and...Shelly didn’t have eyes and I’m scared.”
“You’re having a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” her brother said.
“No! It’s real.” she demanded, “There’s lions in this house!”
“There’s no such thing as lions. Go to bed.”
The next day at school Marie saw Michelle. She ran up to her friend and squeezed her until Michelle’s eyes bugged out.
“What is up with you?” asked Michelle.
“I thought the lions got you!” Marie exclaimed.
“What?”
“You were at my house last night. You wanted to go trick or treat, but a lion got you and ate your eyes out!”
“Oh my god, Marie. You have the most crazy dreams!”
“It wasn’t a dream!” Marie insisted. “You were dressed like a princess!”
“I ALWAYS am a princess for Halloween.” declared Michelle.
“Well,” said Marie, “be careful. There are LIONS in the world.”
“They don’t have lions in Amon Heights. That’s only a jungle thing. Like in Africa. Or the ZOO!”
“Girls!” interrupted Mrs. Dempsey, “Stop chit-chatting in the hallway and go to your classroom!”
The rest of the day, Marie didn’t let Michelle out of her sight. Just to make sure her friend was safe, after school she invited Michelle over to play. They made mud pies for their dolls and rolled around in the grass.
That night at bathtime Marie refused to go.
“Honey,” said Mom, “You have to take a bath. You’ve been running around all day and rolling in dirt. You're filthy.”
“No. I can’t take a bath because of the shower curtain people!”
Christopher overheard this and snickered. “The shower curtain people? Oh god. Just take your bath already.”
“THEY’RE REAL! They watch me when I’m in the tub!”
“You’re just making excuses because you like to smell like pee!” her brother retorted.
“Christopher!” said Mom, “Go to your room. I’ll deal with little miss Marie.”
Mom stayed with her through the bath and the shadowy figures did not show up. There came another dinner followed by a night of tv before Marie once more woke up alone in her bed.
She opened her eyes to see a baby snoozing on the pillow beside her.
“How did you get here?” she said to it. “No answer, huh? But you sure are the cutes-”
Her voice cut short as the thing wriggled around beside her, its face turned toward hers. The thing in the bed with her was not an infant at all. It looked like a gigantic squirming white worm, with no eyes. But it had teeth. So many teeth in its wide mouth that opened and snapped at Marie as it drew close to her throat.
“Aaah!” the girl cried, scooting to the edge of her bed, away from that...thing.
It moved blindly toward her, writhing on the mattress like a fat snake. Marie screamed and squealed, but no one seemed to hear her. She stood up on the bed as the toothy worm thing nudged at her feet.
Pressing up against the wall, Marie felt something cold grab a hold of her hand. Looking down she saw black fingers intertwined with hers. She could barely make it out through the moonlight that streamed in her window, but it seemed as if the black hand extended from the wall itself.
Her eyes widened as she lifted her hand up to her eyes. The black hand came up with hers. It weighed nothing. Marie turned toward the wall to see who or what was attached to the obsidian fingers and suddenly felt herself pulled toward it.
In a flash she found herself pressed flat against the wall. Literally flat, as if she’d become a shadow on the wall of her bedroom.
She could see the light pouring in from the hallway, her toys scattered across the floor, and her bed with that fat little maggot twisting around aimlessly upon it. However, Marie found it impossible to glance to her left or her right. Nevertheless, she felt a force PULL her to the right.
Everything turned black, but she heard a voice in her mind saying, “This way! Come! You will be safe!”
The thing that grasped her hand whisked Marie sidewards into the chilly darkness.
When she could see again, she was in the hallway. She saw the attic door and stairway down to the living room across from her, but still Marie was flat against the wall, like a painting.
Marie tried to gasp when that chubby wriggling worm came into her peripheral vision, exiting her room, into the hall. It crawled slowly across the floor. No sound could escape her as the disgusting little creature came into full view, its eyeless face turning this way and that. As if trying to sense something.
A roar came from the bathroom. Once again the loud flush of the toilet interrupted Marie’s nightly terror. Johnny stumbled into the hall, half asleep, and nearly tripped over the maggot.
“What!” he exclaimed as he looked down at the thing. “No! No. I got them. I got them all!”
Johnny ran away into the bedroom he shared with Christopher. There came a loud clattering of metal on wood followed by his stomping footsteps before Johnny tore back into the hallway wielding an aluminum bat.
SMACK! SMASH! CLANG! SPLAT!
Marie couldn’t close her eyes as she witnessed her brother splattering the hideous little monster against the floor until it was nothing more than a sickening pile of red and gray puss.
Johnny collapsed to the floor and caught his breath before Dad called out from his room.
“What the fuck is going on out there? Go to bed!”
“Sorry!” said Johnny, “I had to pee...um...and I tripped.”
“Well, be quiet. I got work in the morning!”
Johnny sat there for a long while before gathering a dirty towel from the hamper and scooping up the remains of the creature. Marie saw him disappear down the stairs and heard him slip out the front door. Eventually he came back and crept into his bed.
The voice in her head spoke to her once more. It is over. You will be safe now. The p̶̧̛͚̥̤̫̲ͅa̸̠̰̼̜̦͈̓͂̓́͌͋͂r̶̳̬̙̭͇̹̆̊̒̎a̴̘̖̫̫̐s̶̬̠̲͖̼̞͙̿͋ḭ̵͈̲͉͕̜͔͗t̶̡̹̼̥͂̐́e̸̥͕̤͚̞͇͋͘͘̕ will no longer trouble you.
What? She thought.
The p̶̧̛͚̥̤̫̲ͅa̸̠̰̼̜̦͈̓͂̓́͌͋͂r̶̳̬̙̭͇̹̆̊̒̎a̴̘̖̫̫̐s̶̬̠̲͖̼̞͙̿͋ḭ̵͈̲͉͕̜͔͗t̶̡̹̼̥͂̐́e̸̥͕̤͚̞͇͋͘͘̕ . For want of a better term. It brought things that it should not have.
It brought the lions.
It brought many things. Things from a past that has not yet happened. But your sibling has destroyed it. It cannot cause further harm.
What are you? She asked without saying a word.
We do not have a name. Said the voice in her mind. We are...beings who have come to observe you. We do not know our origin.
Are you the shower curtain people?
We do not reside in your bathing shield. But yes, that was us. We meant no harm.
Why am I stuck in a wall?
We brought you to this space for protection. We return you now.
No! Wait! Marie thought urgently.
The next thing Marie knew, she awoke in her bed. It had been a dream. Maybe all of it had. Shower curtain people, lions, worm babies. Just a long nightmare.
She went downstairs to the smell of pancakes. Christopher sat on the floor watching a cartoon about a teenage Dracula.
In the kitchen she found Johnny standing in front of the stove.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Making pancakes. Dad’s working today and Mom’s at the store.”
“YOU CAN COOK?”
“I can make pancakes.” he said.
“Hey little puss puss.” he called out to Christopher, “Come and get it!”
Marie sat at the table with her brothers and ate pancakes. They were burned on the outside and gooey in the middle, but the syrup tasted sweet.
---
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Intro and outro theme
Music Provided By Mediacharger
www.youtube.com/user/MediaCharger
Artist: Darren Curtis
Track: Demented Nightmare
Credit https://bit.ly/3lvCtVS
Background Music Provided By Mediacharger
www.youtube.com/user/MediaCharger
Music Created By : Myuu
Song Title: Growing Shadows
Download: https://goo.gl/dSGD4F
Nothing Is Wrong is written and recorded in New Jersey on Lenapehoking territory.
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