In ancient Norway, Erik Lambskin the Viking is forced to foster a little girl.

untold_podcast_-_snow_and_ash.mp3 File Size: 98532 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

Norway, 1025 A.D.
 
I sat in the cold around a small fire. Alone. I kept the mead hall at my back. The biting cold blew hard, then abated. My strength, my sight and even my once keen hearing deteriorated in my old age, but I still heard cautious steps moving through the snow toward me.

I placed a casual hand on the hilt of my hunting knife. In one motion I unsheathed it, spinning around to meet my first attacker.

“Erik Lambskin, put that away. I’m not here to avenge myself on you.” Hilda Bearroll stood before me. She was old. Not quite as old as me, but time had not been kind to this once beautiful woman. Her hand rested on the handle of her dagger.

I sheathed my blade, turning my back on her and returning to my fire.

Shouting against the wind, still with my back to her, I said, “You should not be here. I have rejected the people’s will at the Thing. I am an outlaw. Someday one of you will come here to claim my lands, my weapons and what’s left of my treasure-horde, after they’ve claimed my life.”

Isabella charmed Demetrius with her innocent beauty and effortless grace from the moment they met. Her virtue hides a deadly secret that threatens to destroy their blossoming romance and everything he holds dear. Evil comes in many forms, but none so twisted and destructive as the promise of true love.

untold_podcast_-_the_reflecting_pool.mp3 File Size: 69594 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

The clear water of the reflecting pool shimmered like diamonds. The humidity made everything sticky, and the climbing mercury did nothing to temper the madness that came with it. Demetrius told himself he never intended for things to go as far as they did. He had always tried to maintain a calm and even demeanor as was demanded of him by breeding and upbringing. In stark contrast to his lifelong training, he lay half on and half off the stone bench surrounding the pool and stared into the water, tears streaming down his soot and blood covered face.

Everyone else was gone, and he was left to deal with the fallout alone. He remained partially on that bench throughout most of the day and into the evening, contemplating what had happened and what was next. One thing he knew for certain. His chance for a life in Paradise Valley had vanished.

Unlike humans, snakes can't cry . . .  even in space.

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Tears don't fall in space. They just pool around your eyes. At least… that’s the case if you’re a human. Us snakes don’t cry. Our tears just drain back into the roofs of our mouths.

In the very near future, Trevor tells his pastor he wants to get a plastic uterus and become pregnant.

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"Pastor, I'm young and healthy. I have a whole summer before college starts. I think it makes sense if I -- I think God is leading me to spend the summer pregnant."

"I . . . see." Pastor Williams suppressed a frown. "Tell me more, Trevor."

Gerald has a green butt. But in the traffic light business, being the best means you have to deal with the lesser colors.

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Having a green butt makes you a bit of a celebrity, and a bit of an outcast. If you're going to work on traffic lights, green is the best color to have. Green, yellow, red. Green is on top. Green is the king! Some sods say the order is Red, Green, Yellow, but that makes no sense. No car waits for a yellow light. The yellow light is just a transition to red.

No, if you ask me, or anyone, green butts are the best butts to have in the traffic light industry. The only problem is no one wants to marry a green. Except, of course, other greens. But for some reason green ladies are (how shall I put this delicately?) dogs.

Every last one of them.

The enemy has sent a destroyer against an ancient race.

untold_podcast_-_the_lament_of_the_last_wolf_spider.mp3 File Size: 7610 kb File Type: mp3 Download File

And Lo!
In the year of our enemy Two Thousand and Seventeen, a great devastation befell our people.
As the parallax of twilight set in, the enemy sent a destroyer.

C-8, a serve bot, is struggling with an invasive code that's affecting all of his systems. As the virus spreads he discovers he is able to act against his programming.

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“You don’t understand man, none of us are free.”

I stand looking at the man, an unkempt, blood-smeared human. In comparison I would seem twice the specimen this man is. I am a foot taller, perfect physique, and admirable features. I am C8, a cyber unit designed to be perfection, human-like in every perceivable way. Some may note my second team member’s flaws when compared to me, but B5 is an earlier model. Though still very advanced, he does not have my level of upgrades. Some say his fair complexion lends itself to flaws. A-7 is the oldest model in my team and lacks in almost every area where B-5 and myself excel. She modestly resembles a human female but is incapable of imitating any of the complexities that are humanity. One thing that my whole unit lacks are the imperfections that makes humans human. We also lack an understanding of this very earthborn concept of freedom.

“I am not a man, but my programming indicates that you are wrong.” My team and I have been programmed with knowledge on all aspects of humanity including, though I do not understand the concept, that all humans are free and therefore responsible for their actions. I ignore the bug crawling through my code.