Untold Podcast

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.

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.

Miriam has been chosen to venture to another world to help a neighboring Amish community. But if she accepts the call, she will never see the love of her life again.

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They were careful to let a girl know what was coming. They knew how much they were asking.

Elder Laudenslager, one of five who governed the Millerite planetoid, had arrived at the Bontrager home, unexpected, on a Saturday evening, after the supper dishes were put away. His demeanor in the lamplight was solemn but not apologetic. Miriam sat silent throughout his talk. She could feel the eyes of her siblings and cousins upon her. They were guessing what Miriam had understood from the moment he had arrived: a great and terrible disaster was about to fall upon her.

“We have received communication from the Yoderites,” said the elder. Since the Yoderites were light-years away, this announcement was fraught. “They have need of an exchange. Four boys and one girl.”

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.

Jenni Gil has a warning for Special Agent Louis Hayes, but will he listen in time?

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Jenni Gil paced the length of the room. She refused to look at the window. Sunlight glowed between the blinds.

“Ma’am, you keep that up, I’ll tell Maintenance they’ll need to replace the carpet.” FBI Special Agent Louis Hayes tapped a stylus on his computer tablet.

Jenni focused on the plastic clacks. Quarter notes. 4/4 time. “You keep asking me the same questions.”

“Only because you won’t give me the real answer.” Hayes swiped down a page without breaking rhythm. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. “The bureau takes these threats seriously.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a warning.”