Untold Podcast

​There are more things in Heaven and Earth. . . One of them must kill tonight.

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I must kill tonight.

I know this from the moment I enter the vehicle. The knowledge weighs upon my shoulders as the driver takes us through the streets of Reykjavik. It remains as we stop. It is still there as Hekla climbs into the seat beside me

“Hello, Uncle!”

​Sweet, innocent little Hekla. For a moment, I share her smile and forget. 

​When young Pierre loses his sight in an explosion, he discovers a deeper way of seeing the village around him.

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It had been two weeks since the accident at school. Pierre’s frail schoolboy body had recovered; his arm and chest no longer ached. But he was now blind. The bandages had been removed from his eyes and now life was a puzzle he had to sort through.

Weeping, hovering over his hospital cot, his parents and the doctors had told him to expect blackness, nothingness, confusion. However, those had not come. For, instead of dark static nothingness, there was sound, vibrations, and waves -- the emanations of living things.

​Eralys waits for the village council's verdict while wearing her ethereal ring.

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Eralys twisted her ring, one visible to no one but her, as she waited for the village council's verdict. The bezel head held a smooth, green stone, but the foreign silver burned cold against her skin. A mysterious jongleur from a far-off land had given her the ring, whispering its secrets and admonishing her to use it well.

Someone is waging war against Christmas. Mrs. Claus the Valkyrie is going to stop them.

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It had been a long time since I’d attended the Council, so I suppose I should have anticipated that not everyone would recognize me. Still, I wasn’t expecting to be challenged by a vampire bodyguard.

“Nobody gets close to the Skeleton King,” he growled, putting an arm across the elevator door.

I didn’t care if I were close to the Skeleton King—who, by the way, isn’t a king at all, because Halloween isn’t a kingdom and so doesn’t have a monarch. He is, of course, a skeleton, but that hardly makes him special. But I did care that if I didn’t take this elevator, I was going to be late.

Traveling through the portals of the realms, Lord Nazerous grows weary after twenty years of constant battle.

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The skull spider crashed one of its mechanical legs into the makeshift catapult.

“Fall back,” Lord Nazerous ordered.

Thirty or so tusk-faced freedom fighters ran past their would-be savior. They clutched their blasters looking for shelter in the foothills behind the village.

The mechanical spider swept another leg across a cluster of home-pods.

Thank God we evacuated, thought Nazerous.

He unsheathed the blade from his back and charged the guardian. A hum followed by green energy surrounded the blade.

The skull spider was a doomsday weapon.

Sometimes helping a man out of a pit is harder than it should be.

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A man is walking deep in a forest one day when he hears a voice cry out “Help me, is anyone there!”

The man steps off the path, and walks deeper into the forest. “I hear you, where are you?”

“Down here!” The voice replies.

The man sees no one, but follows the voice, until he nearly trips at the mouth of an open pit, barely visible from the uneven terrain and forest debris.

“Can you help me?” The man siting in the pit asks. “I’ve been stuck down here for a really long time, and no one has come by.”

Wandering and exhausted in the snowy forest, young Deidra is about to give up when she meets a terrifying creature.

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The young girl wandered the snow-covered wooded path for what felt like days. In reality, it was only a few hours, but the chill of the evening was beginning to overtake her. Without removing her backpack, she decided to lie down among a pile of dead leaves under a tall oak tree. She was just beginning to drift off into a peaceful slumber when she heard a rustle in the distance that made her sit up with a start.

Over dark waters and through blind fog, Elora the dragon risks her life to fly toward a strange music.

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Elora ached from her golden shoulders to the tips of her emerald talons, but still she flew. The pounding of her wings did nothing to part the thick fog surrounding her. Its cloying fingers clung to her hide and threatened to pull her from the sky. She’d left the sun behind hours ago, and with it all sense of direction. Only the song guided her now.

Melancholy notes, punctuated by desolate wails, called through the blockade of clouds like wind through reeds. Someone, or some creature, sang. If she could find the source, she could rest. And she desperately needed rest or soon she’d fall from the sky and into a watery tomb. In her dragon form, she was powerful, but dragons couldn’t float, and she no longer had enough energy left to transform.

Talaith travels into Raven's Swamp, hoping it will not cost her soul.

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 “When you bargain with the Black Knight, you’re trading your soul.”

The voice of her grandfather echoed through her mind as Talaith stood before Raven’s Swamp. Fog hovered over the marshy ground and around the bent, rotting trees. The foliage above grew thick, blocking out the light and casting the swamp into perpetual dusk. As a child the tales of the Black Knight enraptured Talaith. She could hear her younger self declaring, “I’ll defeat the Black Knight someday.” But as she grew up, she stopped listening to “children’s stories.” Now as she prepared to enter, she wished she had paid more attention.

Human traffickers face an unexpected intervention.

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"Customer arriving!" announced the robot.

The shopkeeper looked up eagerly.

The door creaked open with a whistle.  Rain blew inside as a small man fought with the door handle.  "You have my merchandise?" he rasped.

The shopkeeper snorted.  He's a day early.  "Yeah, but it's not ready yet."

Otherworldly gadgets and gizmos in clear displays filled most of the room.  A small lamp dimly illuminated a checkout counter, while brighter lights hummed illuminating the displays.  The visitor gestured to the tall shiny cylinder that had announced his arrival.