Untold Podcast

​When John accidentally knocks over a cross on a mausoleum, it unleashes . . . something.

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​John walked towards the church, passing through the cemetery among the gravestones, squeezing a rock in his hand. He looked at his white knuckles and saw his tears falling on them. His mouth twisted into an anguished snarl, and he threw the rock as hard as he could. It flew into the dark and hit something. He heard the sound of something falling then breaking. John sighed and stared at the moon for a while, then went to inspect the damage.
 
A strange mausoleum he didn't remember seeing before loomed in shadow. What appeared to have been a stone cross affixed above the door now lay shattered on the ground. John gathered up the pieces and put them into his jacket pocket. He promised himself to tell the pastor when he saw him next and pay for it somehow.

​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. 

A demonic force oppresses a successful man.  ​

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A chilled shudder raced up my spine. Every muscle tensed, paralyzed by fear. Terror’s icy grip latched onto my throat, robbing my lungs of breath. I tried to clench my eyes shut, terrified by the looming darkness that lurked by my bedside, but they were pried open by a supernatural force.

A vile entity cloaked in shadow drew close to me, whispering hateful blasphemy. Chilled breath blew against my face. Goosebumps rippled across my skin. Dead, yellowed eyes peered through to me and into the deepest reaches of my soul.

​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.

On a fateful night in Endor, one woman pierced the veil between the worlds. What did she see?

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Her lover had come again tonight. 

Not that he ever left her. But his presence was as arbitrary as his whims. She no longer questioned them. 

He had no living eyes, but she felt his gaze as she sprinkled fresh-cut herbs into the draught. The brackish liquid cast a strangely clear reflection in the firelight. She stared into a face that had once been beautiful. Bright, copper eyes gleaming out over full, soft lips and supple skin crowned by raven locks. Clouded now, the lips dry and bloodless, her aged flesh hanging loosely upon the bones.

Daon took what form he wished. Often he appeared to her as a raven. At other times a serpent. Once a black, man-like shadow of liquid fire. 

She lifted the bowl, breathed in fumes laced with incense. It masked the potion’s vile odor, but would do little for the taste. She looked to the side. Daon—a raven now—regarded her hungrily across the fire. Watching, waiting, whispering.

As the world descends into unknown horrors, a doctor finds himself battling the patients he is trying to save.

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Fear is beautiful, because it drives me into Your arms.

There's a lot to fear in a world of poisoned flesh, where time and space suddenly mean nothing. It was weeks ago, or seconds ago, that I sat, bored out of my mind in 7 AM morning rounds, giving and taking patient reports in the old Episcopal Hospital, praying to You half in jest just to make the attending's lecture end.

Oh, it ended, alright.

Now I stand in a narrow 17th century German alleyway under a blood moon. There is no 7 AM, and no end, or beginning. There is a man with wolf heads instead of hands and feet. They turn on him, eating him alive.

His screams are drowned out by the screeching naked woman to my left. She's at once translucent, and then solid, sometimes in a Civil War Bonnet and sometimes in a 1920s bob, but always screeching and reaching, like a Japanese “Hungry Ghost.”

Then there's the baby behind me, melting and oozing across the cobblestone towards my ankles.

In a strange but familiar world, Jeshua Sheepskin travels the fields and desolate places as all the animals await the great shepherd.

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In the beginning, The Great Dove came and I followed it to a beach named Solace which was beside Crest Lake, not far from the twin valleys of Quagmire and Residence. When I came here, the words to the ancient song of Esaias came true. Long ago, he sang...

"VALLEY OF QUAGMIRE! VALLEY OF RESIDENCE!
IN THE WOLF LANDS ALONG CREST LAKE.
THE SHEEP AND THE OTHERS WHO GRAZE THERE IN SILENCE,
WILL SOON HEAR A SONG OH SO GREAT!"

And so, from the day I arrived in Solace, I began to sing...

Jeff Ben Wa-lid can't stop fighting with his dad, so his mom sends him to his hippie relative - Uncle Jesus.

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Maybe you've heard of my Uncle Jesus. A lot of people say crazy things about him. One lady asked me if he shot fire out of his eyes and I was all, "Whut? That's whacked, lady!" And then I got into trouble for being disrespectful. I gotta watch it. In Israel 28 AD, you piss off the grown-ups too much and they'll get that whole rock throwing thing going at you, and my dad would be glad to help. 

I'm Jesus's nephew. The name is Jeff, Jeff Ben Wa-lid of the Jerusalem Ben-Wa-lids. My dad is Avram.  My grandfather, Wa-lid, opened a big chain of market places called Wa-lid Marts. Yeah, with that kind of bread, you guessed it, dad became a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin. I dunno, I try to listen, I try to be a good son, but when I talk to him about anything, it's like he's speaking a different language. Like yesterday, we were sitting on the roof, having breakfast and he turned to me and said, "Greyt oyf dayn shtudium?"  (So how's school?)

I mean, seriously…What's he saying?

I relate to my mom a lot easier. But she still gets after me.

"Jeff, it is not good that you quarrel with your father so much. By all that is holy, I say you will be the death of each other."