Lunatics Radio Hour
The history of horror and the horror of history.
Lunatics Radio Hour
Lunatics Library 43 - Vampire Horror Stories
Abby and Alan are thrilled to present three horrifying vampire themed stories.
Consider donating to BeLoved Asheville to help our friends impacted by Hurricane Helene.
Watch our horror short on Halloween Night, here.
Leftovers was written by Warren Benedetto and narrated by Michael Crosa. Follow @WarrenBenedetto and @Podnooga on social media.
Therapy Notes was written by Hector Carlo and read by Lissa Sweeney and Mike Macera. Listen to the Re-Shoot podcast, Beach Therapy music and follow @LissaSweeney on IG.
An Improper Suitor was written by Kate Rotunda and read by Abby Brenker and Alan Kudan.
Get Lunatics Merch here. Join the discussion on Discord. Listen to the paranormal playlist I curate for Vurbl, updated weekly! Check out Abby's book Horror Stories. Available in eBook and paperback. Music by Michaela Papa, Alan Kudan & Jordan Moser. Poster Art by Pilar Keprta @pilar.kep.
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Join the conversation on Discord. Support us on Patreon.
Hello everyone and welcome back to another episode of the Lunatics Radio Hour podcast. I'm Abbey Brenker sitting here with Alan Kudan. Hello. And we are so excited for this episode, not only because it rounds out our exploration of the New England vampire panic, but also because it rounds out this year's Halloween spooky season.
Speaker 3:Which is disappointing.
Speaker 1:Witches are disappointing.
Speaker 3:No, no, it's a different witch. I don't want October to end. I feel like we barely did anything.
Speaker 1:That's not true. We went to Transylvania.
Speaker 3:Yeah, but you know, yeah, I guess we went to Sleepy Hollow.
Speaker 1:We did a lot of stuff.
Speaker 3:Yeah, I suppose we did.
Speaker 1:Yeah, I feel pretty good about this October, more so than any other October.
Speaker 3:Yeah, you would would.
Speaker 1:We are so excited also because we have a, I would argue, related thematic film short film that is going to debut on halloween night uh, yeah, we do, which is pretty exciting.
Speaker 3:This was supposed to kick off a big big restart to the lunatics horror shorts category. Just really gonna, you know, get back into making movies. You know which was exactly how this project started, well before the podcast.
Speaker 1:Well before even I met you.
Speaker 3:Yep, so I've heard, but this year was too busy, we did too many things.
Speaker 1:Well, I also just say we, the reason why we haven't made as many shorts, is because we were making a feature film and that is cool and amazing and a new thing. But we're really excited now that we're kind of nearing the end of that journey yeah, but to make short films.
Speaker 3:But the movie is too scary, no one's gonna watch it.
Speaker 1:It's not true but it is very spooky and I'm very proud of it and I really, really can't wait for it to be somewhere so that you guys can all watch it too.
Speaker 3:Okay, so we have a feature film coming out to a theater near you soon. Yeah, and a short film coming to a little screen on Halloween night. Yeah, and that's going to be on what channel?
Speaker 1:YouTubecom, youtube, so wwwyoutubecom slash the lunatics project backslash yeah, the lunatics project, I think, so I'll link it.
Speaker 3:Don't worry, it'll be linked ask your parents before you go online yeah, exactly, get their password.
Speaker 1:The really cool thing is that the short film which, which is called Midnight Snack, stars our friend Lisa Sweeney, who's actually featured on this episode.
Speaker 3:And one of the other readers. Mike Massera, was the assistant director on the film.
Speaker 1:That's right. We couldn't have done it without either of them. It was such a fun project. We sort of forced them, against their will, to stay awake with us on the streets of Brooklyn until 5 am, and it was two.
Speaker 3:No, it was two. We were home by three.
Speaker 1:That's not true.
Speaker 3:That's how I remember it, yeah that's not entirely accurate.
Speaker 1:However, it was very fun and I'm very grateful for them. Alan shot the film. It's gorgeous and in addition to that, you've done some cool stuff with the sound design. We have some music in there from a friend. It just really came together very well. We're very, very proud of it and it is re-inspiring for us to get back to the roots of this project, like you said, and also to be able to release a film on Halloween, because that was a tradition for us for a really long time and hopefully there'll be much more to come soon. It's only like three minutes, so please watch it. We're really, really happy with it and it feels like the perfect punctuation on this October being very vampire themed for us.
Speaker 3:Yeah, do you have three minutes to spare on Halloween? We do.
Speaker 1:We do. That's right, and I'll, of course, post about it on social media, so you guys know all the details of the time it will go live and all of that, and if you're listening to this after halloween, it's already live and you can go watch it whenever you'd like but go back in time because we want people there for our online live premiere yeah, we'll be there on the chat if you want to talk to us oh, yeah, you can talk to us.
Speaker 3:Wow, that's cool, um, but if you want to talk to us elsewhere, you can either find us on discord, that's right, or find us in real life, but we're not going to give you any hints that's right.
Speaker 1:So good luck, whatever you prefer. Okay, enough silliness and self. Actually, I was going to say enough self-promotion.
Speaker 1:One more thing to self promote no our amazing friend, our talented friend, pilar Kapp, has designed the coolest New England vampire panic merch, which is available at lunaticsprojectcom. If you click on merch at the top of the page, it will take you to our really cool merch store and it's my favorite design that we have. I'm just going to say it, and even if you're listening to this, after Halloween, new England vampire panic merch is in vogue all year round. Okay, and now we're going to take a second and pause and break from all of the silly, spooky vampire Halloween fun just for a few minutes, because there's something really important that we want to talk to you guys about. So our friend, michael Crosa, who is one of the narrators on this episode and also a longtime friend, sent us a little bit of information that we'd want to share with you guys just at the top of the episode. This is a personal note from Michael, so I'm going to read it, but Michael wrote it.
Speaker 1:As a person who grew up in Asheville but moved away, it's been crazy to watch the footage of the overwhelming flood damage that happened from Hurricane Helene. Lots of other small towns across the region also were devastated, but without as much news coverage, many of them probably won't come back and although it's been sad to see the damage, it's really encouraging to see the way that the community instantly pitched in to help their neighbors. If you are thinking about donating but don't know where to start, I recommend an organization called Beloved Asheville. They're a long-running mutual aid organization who pivoted their efforts into disaster relief and really stepped up to the plate to meet the needs of the community. Thank you for listening.
Speaker 1:And while you're here, we say Appalachia, as our friend John Cook says. If you say Appalachia, then I'm going to throw an apple at you. But I also just want to say thank you to Michael for reminding us all that despite all the silly, spooky, fun Halloween things, there's also real life, real world things going on. Alan and I also made a donation to Beloved Asheville. I will link it in the description at the very top below so that you all can do the same if you're so inclined. But thank you guys for listening. And now on to some spooky stories. Without further ado, let's get into the first story. Just a quick content warning on this one. It's a bit gory. I would say two of the three stories today are pretty gory, and also there is some description of drug use. Just so that everyone's aware.
Speaker 4:Here we go. Leftovers, written by Warren Benedetto, read by michael grosa mom, maybe you shouldn't go out.
Speaker 5:Yuri warned it's too dangerous. Elena made a shushing sound and waved her hand dismissively. Forgetting that yuri couldn't see the gesture over the phone, she switched the handset to her other ear as she opened the refrigerator. It was a vintage metal icebox with rounded corners and a curved horizontal handle made of dulled chrome. Blooms of rust scarred the once white finish. The door swung open with an anguished squeal. It was dark inside. I'll be fine, she said. I'm just going around the corner. The refrigerator's wire shelves were stacked with cardboard shoeboxes and dented metal cookie tins. Elena took out one of the shoeboxes and carried it over to the kitchen table. The refrigerator door swung shut and latched with a solid clunk. It sounded more like the closing of a car door than a kitchen appliance clunk. It sounded more like the closing of a car door than a kitchen appliance.
Speaker 5:Yuri tried to reason with his mother. Why don't you let me bring you something? I can be there in a few hours. Oh, you're coming to visit Now. You have time. Elena, chuckled, I feel honored. Come on, ma, don't do that. You know how it is with work. Elena sat down at the table. Wisps of her white hair caught the late afternoon sun framing her profile in a halo of golden light. She had high cheekbones and a strong chin, with eyes that were a striking shade of pale Mediterranean blue. Her skin had the look and texture of finely wrinkled tissue paper. It slid loosely over her bony hands and arms like an old silk garment. She removed the lid of the shoebox. Inside was a kaleidoscopic array of embroidery threads in spools and bundles of every imaginable shade and color. Have you made partner yet? Elena asked as she dug through the box. Her tone was casual, but the question was barbed like a fish hook. There was a long silence before Yuri replied. Not yet.
Speaker 5:Hmm well, elena nodded. Someday. There was another long pause. Here it comes, olenna thought. Finally, yuri spoke Promise me you'll be careful. And there it is. He wasn't coming to visit. He never had any intention of doing so.
Speaker 5:His offer was a charade, his concern merely performative. It was a little one-act he put on for his own benefit, one where he could play the role of a dutiful son, while she played her part as the disappointed but understanding mother. It was a familiar show, one she had seen thousands of times before. She'd had a front row seat for years. She couldn't blame him. He had his life, his apartment on Central Park West, his girlfriend from that perfume commercial on the television, his job, moving money from one place to another. It was a life full of opportunity, full of gallery openings and wine tastings and conversations about Michelin stars and designer clothes. There was no room for a lonely old woman with cracked linoleum floors and threadbare sweaters with holes in the elbows. No room for the old neighborhood, no room for the past.
Speaker 5:Elena knew her son was ashamed of where he'd come from, of who he was, of who he still is, she thought with a hint of bitterness, no matter how much he tried to pretend that he wasn't like it or not, he was still her son. Her blood was his blood. It was a fact, an undeniable, inescapable fact. But she let him pretend that it wasn't. It was easier than arguing, don't worry. She reassured him. I'll be careful, as always. Good, okay, he sounded relieved and if I get off work on time, of course, you're always welcome, so maybe I'll see you. Maybe, she said, not believing for a second time that he would come. I'll save you some leftovers, just in case a second time that he would come.
Speaker 5:I'll save you some leftovers, just in case, elena gripped the railing as she made her way down the crumbling stairs in front of her apartment building, broken glass crunched under her blocky thick-soled shoes. Dumpster water trickled out of the alley and into the gutter, leaving the air heavy with the stench of urine and rotting food. A vagrant slumped in the doorway of an abandoned storefront, a needle dangling from his arm, his soiled and sodden belongings spilled out of a torn plastic bag printed with the words Thank you in garish red font. The neighborhood was no longer the place Elena had once known it to be. It used to be a vibrant melting pot, brimming over with the sights and sounds and smells of immigrants from around the world, all striving for better lives for themselves and their families.
Speaker 5:Elena and her son had fit in well, drawing little attention despite their thick accents and unfamiliar habits. Over time, the two of them had acclimated and assimilated, adopting the language and customs of their new home and losing most of the vestiges of the old country. Uri had found work first at a local bank, then eventually making his way to the hallowed grounds of Wall Street. It was as if he had been born for the world of high finance. He was self-absorbed and selfish, with little regard for the well-being of others. He wasn't encumbered by inconveniences like guilt or empathy. He had no conscience. He fit right in. Before long he was cavorting with swimsuit models, half his age, parading a different one past his doorman seemingly every night. As he escorted them up to his penthouse apartment, he ordered call girls like takeout, with the numbers of several local traffickers on speed dial. Discretion was paramount. Money was no object. His enablers were happy to oblige.
Speaker 5:Elena, meanwhile, had stayed behind, preferring the familiarity of her cramped fifth-floor apartment to Yuri's high-gloss, high-risk, high-rise lifestyle. Nothing much had changed with the place since she first moved in so many decades before. She had the same creaking wood floors, the same peeling, piss-yellow wallpaper, the same leak-stained ceilings. She watched the same analog TV, which still sported the same rabbit-ear antennas despite having been converted to cable years ago. While Elena and her apartment had remained constant, the neighborhood had crumbled around her, becoming increasingly infested with drugs, poverty and crime. It seemed like every day there was another report of another murder, another person gone missing. Sirens wailed at all hours of the day and night, spilling red and blue light into the ceiling from the street. Below, light posts and metal roll-top doors were wheat-pasted with homemade flyers featuring words like Missing and, if Found, please Call. Right next to faded ads for Hot Girls and Free Pussy.
Speaker 5:To be fair, it had never been a paradise. There had always been danger, since the day Elena and Yuri first arrived. But the danger was of a different nature back then. In those days, the danger lurked in the shadows. It would emerge soundlessly from the darkness then would vanish just as silently into the night. Now the danger operated in broad daylight. Just as silently into the night. Now the danger operated in broad daylight.
Speaker 5:It was brazen, unafraid. It dared people to notice it, to do something about it, to stop it. But would they? Of course not. They couldn't be bothered. Everyone was too wrapped up in their own lives. Just look at Yuri. He feigned concern, sure, but that didn't bring him back home. The truth was, nobody cared about each other anymore. They didn't even know each other. Everyone was a stranger.
Speaker 5:The whole city was infected with a terrible anonymity, a plague of indifference. Violence had lost its power to offend. Another prostitute gone missing. Another junkie drained bloodless in the gutter. Another homeless man found disemboweled in a back alley behind a Starbucks. It didn't matter, it was background noise, radio, static. People had more important things to worry about. They had selfies to take and photos to post. Followers to influence. They couldn't be bothered with trivial things like murder. It was all fine with Elena, though. She appreciated the invisibility that came with indifference. It allowed her to move unnoticed through the streets to do what she needed to do and then to make her way back home undisturbed. The more people ignored her, the safer she would be.
Speaker 5:Elena navigated around a sleeping junkie's filth-encrusted feet, then rounded the corner onto the main avenue. Down the street ahead of her she noticed two young men in their early twenties lounging on a stoop next to a boarded-up pawn shop. She had seen them before. It was their regular spot, their place of business. The tall one was named Afsal. He was lanky and lean, with heavy eyebrows and an unruly beard. His hair was shaved on the sides and long on top, slicked back and tied in a small, tight bun. A black Brooklyn Nets jersey with a white number 11 hung loose on his frame. He wore clean white sneakers that looked fresh out of the box. The shorter man was Leo. His broad shoulders filled out an oversized white t-shirt that came down almost to his knees. Tattoos covered every inch of his arms, from his knuckles up the back of his hands, over his muscled forearms and into his sleeves. A flat-brimmed Yankees hat was pulled low over his eyes with a pair of wraparound black sunglasses perched above the brim.
Speaker 5:As Elena approached, an emaciated twenty-something dodged his way through traffic and crossed the street to meet Leo and Afzal. The kid spoke briefly to Afzal, then slipped him a wad of cash. Afzal palmed something back to him, a tiny plastic bag of brown powder. The addict fist-bumped Afzal then hustled off down the street. Afzal unfolded the money he had been handed and added it to a thick roll of cash from his pocket. Elena gave a short little sniff of dismay while she passed. Afzal heard it. He shot her a cold look. Elena quickly averted her eyes. She tightened her grip on her purse and quickened her pace. Afzal stuffed the cash roll back in his pocket, then cupped his hand over his mouth and said something to Leo. Leo nodded. They waited until Elena was a few doors down from them, then casually fell and stepped behind her.
Speaker 5:From the moment they stepped off the stoop, elena knew she was being followed. She could sense it. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, leo and Afzal were behind her. They weren't too close, but they were close enough and getting closer as the thugs quickened their pace, elena abruptly took a quick sidestep into an alley on her left. It was a deft move, surprisingly agile for a woman of her age.
Speaker 5:A few seconds later, leo and Afzal rounded the corner into the same alley. They stopped dead in their tracks. Elena was gone the hell. Leo exclaimed Where'd she go? The alley was a dead end. It was empty, except for a few damp cardboard boxes piled haphazardly next to the back door of a Chinese restaurant. There was a fire escape overhead, but its ladder was still retracted. There was no place for her to run, no place to hide, and yet she was nowhere to be seen. The only evidence that she had been there at all was her purse, which lay abandoned in the middle of the alley. She probably went through here, leo said, ignoring the dig. He tugged on the restaurant's back door. It was locked or not? Afzal laughed at Leo.
Speaker 5:Leo kicked over the pile of cardboard boxes. A large rat scurried out, squealing. It ran straight up the alley wall, ascending vertically, then paused on the windowsill overlooking the fire escape. It peered down at them with its tiny black eyes, whiskers, twitching. What are you looking at? Leo growled at the rat. It hissed back at him in response.
Speaker 5:So Afzal asked Leo what now? Leo noticed Elena's purse lying on the ground nearby. He looked at Afzal. Afzal nodded Do it. Leo squatted down, picked up Elena's dropped purse and opened it. Meanwhile Afzal thrust his hands in his pockets and walked to the end of the alley. He meandered casually out to the sidewalk and looked both ways, checking to see if any cops or other witnesses were around. There were a few neighborhood drunks smoking cigarettes in front of the liquor store down the street. Other than that there was nobody. Afzal popped a piece of gum in his mouth and leaned up against the wall and started scrolling through his phone, his thumb occasionally pausing to double tap on an image of a duck-lipped girl in a lurid pose. In the alley.
Speaker 5:Leo shuffled through Elena's purse. He pulled out a brown vial of pills, examined the label, then pocketed it. He found a handful of crumpled bills and pocketed those too all six dollars worth Anything. Afzal called, keeping his eyes on his phone. Not much.
Speaker 5:Leo dug to the bottom of the purse. His eyes lit up. What's this? He mumbled. He pulled out a delicately embroidered silk wallet. It was closed with a loop of string around a small black bead. Leo snapped the string. The bead popped off and fell to the ground, bouncing off the concrete and into a dark oily puddle.
Speaker 5:Leo opened the wallet Disappointment registered on his face. It was full of photographs. Seriously, who carries actual photographs anymore? Isn't that what phones are for? Leo flipped through the photos. They were old, like really old. They looked like they had been taken with one of those antique cameras, the kind where the photographer has his head under a black sheet with a flashbulb that pops and sizzles like a burger on a grill. The kind they have at Coney Island, where you dress up like your grandparents and pretend to be old, old-time photos. The place was called. It was stupid, but people seemed to love it. Leo had no idea why the woman in the photos was called it was stupid, but people seemed to love it. Leo had no idea why.
Speaker 5:The woman in the photos was the same one they had followed into the alley. She looked about the same age too, but the dress she was wearing looked like something out of a history book. She was with a guy who was maybe in his 40s. He had close cropped hair and wore a well-tailored suit with a pocket watch tucked into his vest. He was too young to be her husband, unless she was some kind of sugar mama. Maybe she was Old lady's still getting the D, he thought, a small grin curling his lips.
Speaker 5:Leo pulled the photo out of its plastic sleeve and turned it over. The words Elena and Yuri, 1871, were scrawled on the back in thin cursive letters. It reminded Leo of the kind of writing you'd see on the Declaration of Independence or something Damn. Leo thought this lady is old as dirt. He laughed to himself, then dropped the photo in the puddle at his feet.
Speaker 5:Just then he heard a rustling sound overhead, like a bed sheet flapping in the wind. He looked up. His eyes went wide. On the sidewalk a gust of warm air blew out of the alley and rustled Afzal's hair. Still looking at his phone, he called to Leo. Leo, you almost done, or what? There was no response.
Speaker 5:Afzal shoved his phone back in his pocket, then turned and wandered back into the alley. Let's go speed it up. He stopped chewing his gum mid-chew. Leo's Yankee hat was on the ground upside down. It rocked gently as if it had been dropped. Only seconds before Elena's purse was next to it, its contents were half spilled out into a puddle. The photo wallet lay face down on the asphalt nearby. Leo was nowhere to be seen. Afzal turned around and looked back towards the street, checking to see if maybe he had missed Leo walking out of the alley. While he was scrolling his phone, he hadn't. For the first time, afzal noticed how much darker it seemed to have gotten. All of a sudden, the sun had set behind the buildings, leaving the alley deep in shadows. Leo, he called, where'd you go? He tugged at the door to the Chinese restaurant. It was still locked. He walked over to where Leo's hat had fallen and picked it up.
Speaker 5:He turned it over, looked inside, then turned it over again. This is some Bermuda Triangle bullshit. He thought Yo, Leo, we gotta go. Afzal shouted. His voice echoed off the alley walls Come on, I'm hungry. He listened for a response. Nothing. All right, I'm out, Leaving your hat though.
Speaker 5:He dropped Leo's hat on the ground. Where he found it as he turned to leave, something wet dripped onto his face. It hit him above the eye, ran over his eyebrow, then splashed onto his clean white sneakers. His first thought was bird shit. Then he looked down at his Nikes they were splattered with dark crimson. It wasn't bird shit, it was blood. Oh what? The? Afzal scooped the blood from his eye and wiped it reflexively on his Nets jersey, smearing it across the white number one. Then he looked up to see where it had come from.
Speaker 5:On the fire escape. Above a dozen feet or more overhead, Leo was sprawled on his back. Wide blossoms of blood were spreading across the back of his white t-shirt, merging together into a single enormous stain. One of his arms dangled loosely over the edge. A stream of blood ran its length and drizzled from the tips of his fingers. More blood poured through the black iron grate of the fire escape floor raining down in long elastic drops. It pattered softly onto the cardboard boxes below.
Speaker 5:Elena was perched on top of Leo's body in a deep squat. Her bony knees were flared out on either side of her shoulders. Her head was lowered near Leo's chest, out of sight. Leo's body twitched and jerked as Elena tugged at his torso, doing something Afzal couldn't see from his angle below. He could hear it, though, A wet, squelching sound that reminded him of his pit bull sloppily gobbling down a bowl of canned dog food. Jesus, Afzal stumbled back a few steps At the sound of Afzal's voice.
Speaker 5:Elena picked her head up and swiveled it to look down in his direction. She was nearly unrecognizable. Her eyes had gone completely white, no pupils, no irises, Like a blind man or one of those lizards that spends its whole life in a cave in the dark. Man, or one of those lizards that spends its whole life in a cave in the dark. Her mouth was oddly distended, her jaw seemingly unhinged, her gums protruding past her lips to reveal rows upon rows of long, needle-sharp canine teeth that leaned inwards at haphazard angles. The bottom half of her face was smeared with blood, thick black clots dangled from her chin.
Speaker 5:As Elena glared at Afzal, her arms roughly tugged at Leo's body, Something gave way. She lifted her hands. Her arms seemed to have doubled in length. Her fingers were impossibly long and thin, almost insectile, with razor-sharp talons that curved from her fingertips. They were wrapped around something irregularly shaped about the size of a small grapefruit Leo's heart. The organ spasmed weakly, seemingly oblivious to the fact it was no longer attached to Leo's body. Elena fed it into her maw and bit down. She chewed it greedily, never breaking eye contact with Afzal. Afzal remained frozen in abject terror. His mind grasped for a rational explanation. What am I? Even?
Speaker 5:looking at he thought, Whatever it was, it wasn't real, it couldn't be. Old women didn't just turn into demons and eat people. Someone must have slipped him something. Some PCP maybe, or angel dust Sent him on a trip, a crazy bad trip. He was probably going to wake up on a couch in his apartment with Leo laughing his face off, probably end up on YouTube going viral.
Speaker 5:Afzal slowly started backing down the alley, keeping his eyes trained on Elena above. If the old woman was busy doing whatever she was doing to Leo, maybe he could slip away, run home, lock the door, never leave the house again. For a few seconds it seemed like his idea might work. Elena seemed to lose interest in him as he slowly retreated, step by torturous step. Instead she turned her attention back to disemboweling Leo's body. Then Afzal stepped on Leo's fallen sunglasses. They shattered with a sickening crunch.
Speaker 5:Elena immediately responded to the sound. She hopped up onto the fire escape railing with cat-like grace and perched on it like a gargoyle. A series of loud clicking sounds emanated deep from in her throat. The clicks bounced and echoed off the sides of the buildings, painting an aural picture of the alley's geometry. She cocked her head and listened. Her ears were elongated and oversized the tapered tips drawn backwards into long points. Afzal turned and bolted down the alley towards the street in a full sprint. He opened his mouth to shout for help, but no sound came out, just a rush of air that sounded like HURR.
Speaker 5:Up above a pair of thick leathery wings unfolded from Elena's back. She launched herself down from the fire escape, arms outstretched, wings extended, fangs bared, swooping down towards Afzal, slicing silently through the air like a raptor diving for prey. Elena rode her building's clanking, shuddering elevator up to the fifth floor, then walked down the hall towards her apartment. She looked normal again. There was no trace of the horrific transformation Afzal had witnessed in the alley. It was almost as if it had never happened.
Speaker 5:As Elena turned the corner, she noticed someone leaning against the wall outside her apartment door. It was a man in his mid-forties with a close-cropped haircut and a well-tailored suit. A diamond-encrusted Rolex encircled his wrist. He tapped expertly on the screen of his iPhone with his thumbs. Elena gasped in surprise. Yuri. The man looked up from his phone and smiled hey, Ma, you came. Elena's voice was a choked whisper. She cleared her throat. I thought you had work. Ah well, he powered off his phone and tucked it inside his suit jacket and patted it. It'll be there when I get back. He smiled how are you? Did you get yourself something to eat? Elena nodded. Then she opened her purse and withdrew a small grapefruit-sized bundle rolled in black fabric. The material was torn and shredded with the remains of a blood-streaked number 11 still visible on one side. She handed it to Yuri. Mmm smells delicious, he said as he began to unwrap the offering. What is?
Speaker 5:it. Elena smiled at her son Leftovers.
Speaker 1:So this story was written by Warren Benedetto and it was originally published in Night Terrors, volume 6 by Scare Street in 2020. Warren as you all know very well now because we've featured him many times on the podcast, is a writer of dark fiction about horrible people, places and things. He is an award-winning author with many stories under his belt and he's appeared in publications like Dark Matter Magazine, fantasy Magazine and the Dread Machine. He's also featured on podcasts such as the no Sleep Podcast, and one favorite fun fact about Warren is that he works in the video game industry, where he holds over 50 patents on various types of gaming technology.
Speaker 1:And, of course, our friend Michael Krosa, longtime friend of the podcast, narrated this story beautifully and I thought they were a really, really good match. I loved the twist in this story. I loved that he plays with you a little bit and you're not quite. You kind of think they're just like a mother son duo and then you start to piece together the different clues that oh, they're really old and they kind of go back and you know, and I love the mythology of that- Well, first off, I absolutely love a New York vampire story.
Speaker 1:You do.
Speaker 3:I read. One of my favorite books from last year was the Lesser Dead, and that was during my deep dive into Christopher Buhlman.
Speaker 1:I was going to say, this story reminded me a lot of that.
Speaker 3:Absolutely Like a seedy New York. Yeah, a seedy New York horror story like that? I don't know. I want more of it.
Speaker 1:I don't.
Speaker 3:I feel like there's not enough out there. The Lesser Dead takes place in the 1970s, but I think this one was supposed to be modern day.
Speaker 1:Yeah, and I want to caveat. I say that I don't want more of it only because I live here and it freaks me out a little bit. The story was very effective. This one really seemed to play with some like a mishmash of different time periods because, like it talks about, like a seedy alley yeah behind starbucks like those are two things in very different decades but I, like we all, can kind of picture those things, you know sure, honestly, because we're on the, the vampire theme, I think it was which blade was.
Speaker 3:It is there two or three where they? It was like the this, like a weird pan society. It was futuristic but felt just like modern. Yeah, you know, they spoke. What the hell is that language it's supposed to be? It took me a second but I had to google. The language that they speak is esperanto. Just because it's a synthetic language that is supposed to, it's like a mishmash of every other language. Just because, you know, once we live in a society that just becomes so mingled that individual languages just kind of melt together, and so I kind of got that kind of vibe. Just once they were putting different aspects of different time periods all just kind of into New York, and I feel like that also goes with a vampire theme of like one being that goes throughout the ages.
Speaker 1:Yeah, exactly, I think that's really cool.
Speaker 3:Also just check out Christopher Buhlman. All his stuff rocks.
Speaker 1:Yeah, it's pretty good. It's one of the. He's one of those rare authors that you and I both like.
Speaker 3:Yeah, right up there with RL Stine.
Speaker 1:Yeah, but this story I thought was great. I feel like Warren has this I've said it before like this very epic way of writing and he can create a very visual world and tell a really robust story. You know like it could be contained, but it feels like it's very artistically painted. You know I can visualize everything he's talking about. Again, michael also did such a great job and our friend Michael has been so generous with us over the years and has such a great voice. If you are not familiar with Michael's work, he's based out of Chattanooga, tennessee, and you could follow the PodNuga podcast network to learn more about what he's up to and some of the other podcasts that he's working on.
Speaker 3:A big fan of the story. It's a lot of fun. My one gripe oh here we go. This is a New England vampire panic, I have news for you. And New York is not part of New England, which is something that you like to remind me on a surprisingly regular basis.
Speaker 1:Well, you seem to keep forgetting.
Speaker 3:Because you like to make me feel excluded from your little club.
Speaker 1:That's right. Well, it is not part of New England, and that's OK, because I made this call vampire stories generally, but we will end today's episode with one New England based story.
Speaker 3:Wait. So the next one isn't New England either.
Speaker 1:The next one could sort of happen everywhere, so we could say that it takes place in Rhode Island, if it makes you feel better.
Speaker 3:Is Rhode Island in New England.
Speaker 1:Yeah, do you know the states of New England?
Speaker 3:Do you?
Speaker 1:Yes.
Speaker 3:Let's see All right roll the tape.
Speaker 1:Go ahead, go ahead. Name all the states of New England.
Speaker 3:Roll the tape.
Speaker 1:You're not even going to try, okay.
Speaker 3:Maine, yeah. New Hampshire, yeah. Vermont, mm-hmm. Rhode island, delaware, nope, did I hit them all? You're missing one, the center one, massachusetts. There you go. He did it nice, not delaware, huh, no is it close.
Speaker 1:No south of pennsylvania, where's? And new jersey where's rhode island? Rhode island is next to connecticut. What? Okay? Well, we'll get you a map later. All right, let's roll the tape on the next story.
Speaker 4:Therapy Notes. Read by Hector Carlo. Read by Lisa Sweeney and Mike Masura.
Speaker 6:Friday, march 8th, 9 pm. Klein appeared exhausted for our second session. His clothes were a business casual suit, jacket and slacks light colors. As he just came fresh from work, he talked about how his relationship with his girlfriend had deteriorated due to him spending so much time at work. He then profusely apologized for having me work late an avoidance coping strategy and I told him it was fine and I did it for the love of the game. What I didn't tell him is that I need the hours so I can make my licensing test. He seemed to feel better and continued his strategy of avoiding the problem by asking me more about what I do as a therapist. I indulged him for a short while and when my short answers were not interesting to him, I jumped back into the topic at hand.
Speaker 6:Client described himself as not having enough energy when he returns home to his girlfriend. She complains that I do nothing when I'm the one working six days a week so we can enjoy our lives. He mentioned snapping at her and she ran off crying into the bedroom for an hour. He talks about the stress he feels due to him being the only one currently employed. I mostly let him speak, as this is still an informative period. In the sessions I noted that he had his shoulders hunched down and his eyes downcast for most of the session. He had a wide-eyed stare when I told him that I see the burden of responsibility he feels to his work and his girlfriend and how he tries to make it work. The session ends with him having a little light in his eye and he asks about coming by next week. At the same time, my early diagnosis is burnout from work, along with stress on trying to manage his different roles, maybe feeling like he isn't content with his life.
Speaker 6:Friday, march 15th, 9pm. Client walks in angry. His tie was removed forcefully before coming in due to his collar being uneven. I try to focus today but I'm feeling weak after what happened this weekend. The bite mark still burns and it's been nearly a week. Police still won't take me seriously. The burning and pulsing makes it so that I only ever hear every other word the client says he starts the session angry about his work and how they do not appreciate him. He tells me about the new project he has to work on for his job. I embarrassedly didn't look at my notes before the session and can't remember his job Something I need to remember for next time. His intake form would be good to look at also.
Speaker 6:I didn't ask about his family of origin, as he did not write much about them in his intake and he was nervous when I brought the topic up in the first session. He hesitates before telling me he was raised by his grandparents, as his mother died in childbirth and his dad ran away to Puerto Rico to start a new family. He was close to his grandmother but his grandfather never gave him any attention as he was too exhausted after having to un-retire and go back to work. I didn't have my grandfather's attention, and love half the days Leads me to believe it's ambivalent attachment. He mentioned his grandfather was an English professor at the local university and the client feels like he failed his father figure by dropping out of the English department. He was getting a full ride to. He switched to majoring in marketing instead. I was going to mention that I took a few English classes there for my minor as some fun self-disclosure, but thought better of it. Personally, I never understood what was so difficult about the English department, outside of the amount of reading I had to do. Where was I? Oh right, I noticed a pattern and asked him if he was nervous around his girlfriend. He said he was nervous as she didn't know what person she would get if he showed up too exhausted to talk to her after work. And I asked him if this was similar to not knowing what version of his grandfather he would get every night and he nodded. I empathized with him and the fear of not knowing how your loved ones will react to you trying your best every day. He started to get emotional but blinked the tears away. I asked him about the tears and he got quiet. I apologized and moved on talking about his work week. As he got up to leave at the end he fixed his collar and rolled up his sleeves. I never noticed how muscular he is.
Speaker 6:Friday, march 22nd 9pm. Client was in a sad mood today. His demeanor literally cooled the room as he entered and I could just feel the bitterness in the air. He started off about how he tried to take his girlfriend out on a date to talk about how he was feeling, as him opening up here was giving him the courage to talk to his girlfriend. He tried to talk to her but he couldn't get the right words out. He told me it led to a misunderstanding and it was his fault. But I don't think so. He's been articulate to me and I'm sure she isn't emotionally at a stage to empathize with him with all her preconceived notions of why he's treating her the way he is. He said the dinner was fine but awkward. He was so preoccupied with his feelings for her and fixing the situation on the date that he missed an important deadline at work and got chewed out by his boss. I wish people were more gentle to each other over deadlines, especially towards tortured souls like my clients. We talked about his disappointment with letting his girlfriend and his boss down, used refraining to see the narrative of he slipped up but can still pick himself up.
Speaker 6:Friday, march 29th, 11pm. Mark, I mean the client is doing better. He was in a good mood and says he's up for a promotion. Even with his screw up, he was so happy he even went to open the window. A little bit of that post-daylight savings sun hit and my eyes were too sensitive. I asked him to close it as I felt a migraine coming on, and he did. I didn't say anything to worry him, but my skin started to hurt too. Anyways, he talked to me about how his work was going well and even his girlfriend, lisa, has been excited for him. It may be countertransference, but I don't think she's right for him. She scolds him for not giving him enough time, but as soon as he can give her more of his hard-earned wages, she's fine with everything. It makes me laugh Crap, screw it. Mark should know better. I worry that he won't need me soon, now that everything seems to be going well for him and I need those hours. I cannot keep anything down anymore and I'm starving. I should go to a hospital and see if this is a virus and run before they ask me for insurance.
Speaker 6:Saturday April 5th 1am. I am not sleeping well anymore and it's affecting my ability to help clients. The doctors could find nothing wrong. All I've been doing to cure my ailments is to eat medium rare steaks like some voracious carnivore. I'm getting angry at all my clients, but especially Mark. The man cut our session short due to my talking and what he thinks is a mocking tone at him, something about my words being too perplexing or making fun of my dropping out. I know Mark can understand me as he responds to my questions. Sure, I do not always talk in the same vernacular as everyone else, but this is not my fault. He's just showing some transference. I'm not the problem, it is his grandfather not giving him enough attention. I'll send him an apology call on Monday and offer to talk it out with him in the next session. Although his anger did get me hot under the collar and, I'm sure, different heat for him, as it raised the temperature of the room by several degrees. I could see his forehead start to get a vein. It looked ravishing. Oh, maybe I should talk to my mentor about supervision with Mark.
Speaker 6:Saturday April 12th 2am. My friends have also started to gripe about my vocabulary changing out of nowhere. They do not realize how many words and topics I have to hold in my brain. Hearing that is making me want to restrain myself from Mark. He needs me to not hold him back. The meat is not satiating me anymore. I need to focus. Mark is in a much better place and for a brief moment I wondered if he would leave me. He started talking about how much his relationship with Lisa has been improving. He even hinted at proposing to her soon now that he has money for that raise. Oh, how he radiated such warmth when speaking of his feelings for her. She is not good for him. I will tell him next session and convince him to abandon this foolish endeavor of building a tarnished life with her. It was sickening to hear her name escape his perfect lips. I can almost taste-. What am I saying?
Speaker 6:Saturday, april 19th, 4am. I think what my professor said about rapport is working. He was not happy about what I recommended. The temperature in the room had a scornful heat to it. He got furious and tried to match my verbal lexicon to prove some asinine point that made no sense. Mark was about to walk away and looked me in the eyes as he was closing the door. I summoned all my courage and told him to wait. My bravery seemed to work as he just stood there. I asked him to come inside and he did. He had a haze in his eyes. That, I am convinced, was all. I sat him down and explained all the reasons. Lisa was not right for him. By the end I explicitly coached him into breaking up with her and he said he would.
Speaker 6:Thursday, april 26th, 3am. I sleep all day and my nights are filled with thoughts of Mark, his warm lips on mine, my teeth scraping his flesh, his eye corcursing into me. I know what I must do next session and I know he is ready to take me to that step. I should probably get there earlier and find a good position to have this recorder ready to show. I can convince any client anything. Friday, april 27th 7pm.
Speaker 2:Since breaking up with Lisa, I've been happier than I've ever been. I have to thank you for all that you've done for me.
Speaker 6:No need to thank me. It is my duty and pleasure to help you become the best version of yourself you can be. Is it not nice you can have all this money now and not have to waste it on her? Yeah, I guess so. You look a little thinner than normal. Is everything going well for you?
Speaker 2:She was kind enough to make dinner for me. Most nights I've been too busy to cook for myself, so I've been living off of leftovers.
Speaker 6:That makes sense, but why have you not considered other options like takeout?
Speaker 2:In this economy. I can't afford takeout and rent. That's why she offered to cook while she was out of a job.
Speaker 6:She was a witless trollop. That is why she has no vocation. While you've been toiling away at your office.
Speaker 2:I told you to knock it off with this thesaurus shit. You're just like my grandfather. Wait, what am I doing? I threw away a great person like trash because of you. I'm going to tell your supervisor about this.
Speaker 6:Mark, look at me while I'm talking to you and come back here. Why should I come back to you? Piece of sh Sit down Good. You know I care for you. You know what. I know what will help you with all of your problems. Come closer, you will live the life I know you dream about with this Ah.
Speaker 1:Very honored that our friend Hctor carlo of the reshoot podcast wrote such a cool story. It was such a treat to be able to feature his work and if you have not heard of or listened to the reshoot podcast, please check it out and of course we will link it below. But, alan, tell us what did you think of therapy notes?
Speaker 3:as someone that has listened to a lot of perspectives from therapists, this was a very fun twist on that, because never before have I heard a therapist's own stream of consciousness or debriefing or whatever. I've never heard a therapist's thought process while they're simultaneously turning into a vampire.
Speaker 1:Yeah, I thought that was a cool twist. I liked that it was. The format of it too was sort of the therapist's logs. I just love alternate formats and people who play with that. So I thought that was a cool way to give her a reason to like talk directly to us. And then at the end I thought it was fun that we got to hear the voice of her patient for the first time.
Speaker 3:It was fun. I I thought it was fun that we got to hear the voice of her patient for the first time. It was fun. I did not expect to actually hear the patient's voice himself. A little bit of a jump scare, yeah, from Mike Massera, if I'm not mistaken. You're not mistaken. He did a great job and his death was horrific.
Speaker 1:It gave me chills. Lisa and Mike both did such a great job and it was such a fun story. I really am such a great job and it was such a fun story.
Speaker 3:I really am such a fan and if you want more of lisa and mike's work that's right check out midnight snack live this halloween night at wwwyoutubecom backslash the lunatics project the lunatics project.
Speaker 1:Yeah, you asked me this 10 minutes, did we?
Speaker 3:look it up. Yeah, no, you're looking it up now. You don't know I do know what if we send to the wrong place? It's the lunatics project okay, cool, because otherwise we send them to the wrong place, then they're gonna be watching the wrong content.
Speaker 1:It's gonna be terrible and they're gonna be like this isn't as good follow our friend lisa on instagram at lisa sweeney, check out mike's band beach therapy and, of course, listen to the reshoot podcast anywhere you listen to podcasts and you can follow reshoot underscore podcast on instagram to stay up to date with what they have going on. And finally, we have our new england vampire panic finale story. You ready for this't know? I'm going to give it a overall warning, a self-harm warning, a gore warning. I will just say that when I first read this I was pretty woozy, and now I'm going to read it for you all live. So wish me luck.
Speaker 3:Okay, it's a big old Kate warning.
Speaker 1:Exactly, buckle up. An improper suitor. Red-eyed cake, rotunda Red-eyed bus.
Speaker 1:Daphne wasn't sure of much, but she was positive that she should have been dead at this point. She was soaked with dark red blood and she knew it was hers as it was still warm and dripping from her arms. She stared curiously at her wrists, wondering if she had been dreaming. On each wrist there were matching vertical slits from her palm to the crook of her arm. Daphne couldn't help but admire the symmetry, especially considering she couldn't remember doing it. She was struck with many questions. How was she alive? Why did she feel so amazing? And, the most important one of all, why had she done this to herself?
Speaker 1:She tried to recount the events of the evening. She remembered returning home from the village. She had picked up the meat for supper and enjoyed the pleasant stroll in the chilly air. She remembered coming home to fix dinner and finding an unfamiliar man waiting with her father Right away. She knew her father was trying to find her a husband again.
Speaker 1:The truth was, daphne had no interest in marrying anyone now and maybe ever, and certainly not anyone from the odd assortment of men her father thought were suitable. She knew he meant well trying to set her up for a more comfortable life, but each suitor was either older, drunker or crueler than the last. She remembered making a small dinner and placing it down in front of their guest, and then nothing. That can't be right. Daphne looked back at her wrists, hoping the shocking sight would stir her memory. That's odd. She thought they just look like small cuts now, as if a cat had scratched her. For a moment she wondered if she had dreamed it all or was still dreaming. However, that thought left as quickly as it came when she felt the now cold Daphne darling.
Speaker 3:Okay, you left dinner rather quickly. You didn't even clear the plates.
Speaker 1:Of course that was all he cared about. Here she was standing in a pool of her own blood and all he wanted to know was when she would tidy up. I'm quite fine, just. She tried to think of what to say to explain her current situation. Looking down at the blood on her nightgown, she giggled to herself Just some woman issues.
Speaker 3:Oh, oh, oh, yes, of course.
Speaker 1:Daphne placed her bloody hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter as her father tripped over his words.
Speaker 3:Well, good night.
Speaker 1:Daphne listened to his heavy footprints walk away from the door, pulling her hand away from her face. She thought to herself what now? Daphne only had one leg out when she realized escaping through the window would be harder than she thought. As her hand caught on the sharp wood of the house and the cool Massachusetts wind tore through her blood-soaked nightdress, she began to seriously regret the decision. However, it was her only choice. So she shimmied her way down and felt her feet touch the frozen ground. She took a moment to breathe, hit with another wave of complete serenity. She had slit her wrists, lied to her father and snuck out of her house, and yet she felt as if she had just awoken from a long nap.
Speaker 1:She took a few steps back, eyeing her house up and down. It felt so insignificant. The house was small. Father couldn't afford much with what the factory paid him, but it had always been enough for Daphne. It was her only home. Now there was no longer a sense of familiarity. Daphne took another step back to get a better look at her childhood home when suddenly a hand grabbed her shoulder. She gasped and whipped around, surprised to be inches away from a tall figure. Before she had time to think. Her fist swung forward in reaction to the shock. She felt her knuckles connect with a hard jaw, a deep voice protruded from the man. Daphne pulled her fist back to her body, eyeing the man up and down, deciding whether she should strike again.
Speaker 3:Ha, it's been a while since someone struck me like that.
Speaker 1:The man's words were slightly slurred. As it appeared Daphne had broken his jaw. The man smirked at her and wrapped his hands around the lower part of his jaw that was no longer aligned with the rest of his face. In one quick motion, the man snapped his jaw back into place. Daphne cringed at the sound of the cracking bone, but kept her fist raised when the man looked up at her.
Speaker 3:Settle. There's no need for that.
Speaker 1:He glanced sideways at her raised fist. Daphne slowly lowered it but kept her hand balled up just in case. The man stepped forward closer to Daphne. She could now see his face better. He seemed vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place him.
Speaker 3:Ah, I see my plan was a success, although.
Speaker 1:He eyed Daphne up and down, pouting at the dried blood covering her nightdress and smeared across her face.
Speaker 3:I was hoping you'd clean up some before coming to see me.
Speaker 1:Daphne tilted her head in confusion trying clean up some before coming to see me. Daphne tilted her head in confusion trying to get a better read on the man in front of her. His accent seemed vaguely European and he was dressed in the fanciest clothes she'd ever seen, with a gold pocket watch hanging from his vest. Daphne had to stop herself from reaching out to touch it. She had never held real gold before.
Speaker 3:Nevertheless, I shall give you a pass this time, since it's your first night. However, in the future, I will expect my wife to be more presentable.
Speaker 1:This caused Daphne to break out of her trance. I am sorry. What did you just say?
Speaker 3:Ah, I see you're still in a bit of a fog.
Speaker 1:The man reached out to place a gentle hand on Daphne's shoulder, but she dipped out of his way. I am going to need you to explain who you are and what is happening right now. Daphne raised her fist again in a half-hearted attempt to threaten the man, though after the jaw trick she did not know if that was possible.
Speaker 3:All right, darling, enough playing around now.
Speaker 1:The man grabbed Daphne's arm with a grip so hard she thought it would snap. Come with me. I will explain everything. Before Daphne could say anything, she felt a rush of wind as her feet left the ground. She was being lifted into the sky, the man still gripping tightly to her arm. Daphne's sense of calm completely vanished as she watched the ground get further and further away. She shut her eyes in fear. The man chuckled as she grabbed on tighter to his arm. Please, sir, I don't want to die. Daphne cried out her words raspy as the cold night air filled her lungs.
Speaker 3:Well, I'll say to you a bit too late for that now, isn't it?
Speaker 1:The man slowed down so that Daphne could hear him.
Speaker 3:Although I do owe you an explanation. Tell me what you remember.
Speaker 1:Daphne opened her eyes to get a better look at the man in the moonlight. Suddenly she remembered you were there. You were at my house. The man looked at her and smiled.
Speaker 3:Yes, I was. Your memories will come back to you piece by piece as your transition continues, but I will explain it to you so that we can move past this rather tedious adjustment. Yes, I was at your place tonight. I am Ambrose. I saw you in the town this afternoon and was struck by the way you carried yourself. I took it upon myself to visit your father in your home. I was planning on manipulating him into letting me in, but it seems all he needed to know was that I was quite wealthy and interested in his daughter.
Speaker 1:Daphne thought his story was checking out. So far it didn't take much for her father to introduce her to a man.
Speaker 3:Then of course, you came home.
Speaker 1:Wait. Daphne stopped the man. The memories were starting to come back to her. After placing Ambrose's dinner in front of him, he snapped his fingers and Daphne's father slumped down in his seat. She had turned towards her father to ask what was wrong, but Ambrose was suddenly in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she felt as if she were in a dream. His voice was soft and low as he said.
Speaker 3:Tonight, my darling, right after dinner, you will go upstairs to your room. You will find a straight razor on your bed. Use this on your wrists to make two deep and long cuts. You will feel no fear, no pain, and I will come for you tonight, my love.
Speaker 1:And then he was gone. Neither Daphne nor her father mentioned him during dinner. They finished and Daphne went upstairs and did exactly as he said. You killed me. Daphne shouted at the man. He came up to a full stop in the sky. His smile had changed into a scowl and he ever so slightly loosened his grip on Daphne's arm. She yelped as she slid a little farther down into the night sky, pawing at his arm to remain afloat. Killed you. You killed yourself. I saved you. Ambrose screamed at Daphne as she dangled below him in the sky.
Speaker 3:You were nothing. When we met, a poor girl with no future, no suitors, I could have drained every drop of your blood, but instead I gave you the greatest gift ever.
Speaker 1:My blood. Daphne's fear subsided for a moment as her mind clicked into place. She looked down at her wrists and noticed her wounds were now completely healed. She moved her tongue around, feeling two sharp canines protruding out of her gums. What have you done? Ambrose laughed, no longer a mild chuckle, but a deep, guttural sound that ripped through Daphne's ears.
Speaker 3:I have granted you eternal life, my dear.
Speaker 1:Ambrose looked down at Daphne, again displeased with the look on her face life.
Speaker 3:my dear Ambrose looked down at Daphne again, displeased with the look on her face.
Speaker 1:I see you have not fully grasped the extent of your powers. Ambrose sighed. Daphne looked up at him, unsure how to read his emotions, or even her own, for that matter. Before she could open her mouth to speak, ambrose let go of her arm completely. She felt herself plummeting to the ground, but she could not release a scream. She closed her eyes and felt the air rush past her. Suddenly, her eyes burst open in reaction to the most intense sensation of pain she had ever felt in her entire life. She had hit the frozen ground, yet somehow remained conscious. She couldn't see her legs, but she knew they were broken, as she couldn't move or feel them at all. Daphne could only move her eyes and she glanced down at her now mangled body. The impact had caused her ribs to snap and they were now protruding through her chest. However, there was absolutely no blood pouring from her wounds as it had before. With her wrists, she tried to scream for help, but no sound came out.
Speaker 1:You see, Ambrose descended slowly and landed at her feet, making sure she could see him.
Speaker 3:No mortal could have survived that. And yet here you are. I am sure you are in immense pain, my love, but that will get easier to deal with and go away as soon as you heal.
Speaker 1:He bent down looking at her legs, which protruded in opposite directions.
Speaker 3:Although you don't want them to heal like this.
Speaker 1:Ambrose grabbed her left leg, maintaining eye contact with Daphne as he swiftly snapped it back into its rightful place, pushing the bone back through the skin. Daphne thought she would pass out from the pain, but she remained conscious. Ambrose shook his head as he moved on to her right leg. Daphne tried to shake her head, no, but she was still unable to move.
Speaker 3:I am truly sorry to have to prove it to you this way, my love, but you are becoming hysterical and you cannot fully understand until you have experienced something so profound.
Speaker 1:He snapped the right leg back into place, this time more slowly, as if he wanted Daphne to really feel it.
Speaker 3:As I was saying, I saved you from that sad little life you had. I have not had a bride in over 300 years, so you should be flattered that I chose you a commoner.
Speaker 1:Ambrose's gaze moved up to Daphne's chest, smiling at her exposed ribs.
Speaker 3:I have given you eternal life, eternal youth, more power and strength than you could imagine. All I ask in return is that you perform your wifely duties.
Speaker 1:He raised his hands above Daphne's chest. She had gained back the sensation in her neck and she shook her head as Ambrose quickly brought his hands down, shoving Daphne's ribs back into her chest. The pain and force caused Daphne to sit straight up, gasping for air. She looked down at the hole in her chest. She could see her skin regrowing, rapidly, mending her wounds. Ambrose roughly grabbed her face and looked deep into her eyes.
Speaker 3:Do you understand darling all the power in the world?
Speaker 1:Daphne nodded and gently pushed his hand down. She softened her gaze and reached up as if to caress his face. Ambrose smiled and nudged his cheek against her hand. Daphne smiled in return before grabbing a fist full of his hair and throwing him back to the ground. Ambrose was stunned, lying face first in the hard dirt, and before he knew it he was lying on his back, dazed. He looked up to see Daphne standing above him with a tree branch. She cocked her head with a smirk and brought the branch straight down into Ambrose's chest. He bellowed out in pain as his arms swung wildly at Daphne, who dodged every swipe, chuckling at the man unable to move an inch on the ground. So I guess the wooden stake really does work. I will admit I was hoping for a bit more spectacle, but this will work just fine.
Speaker 3:You do not know what you're dealing with.
Speaker 1:You cannot kill me. Ambrose choked out once again, attempting to grab his assailant, but his arms could no longer move. Is that so? Daphne kneeled next to Ambrose's head, making sure he was looking at her. She grabbed his left arm and brought it up in front of his face. His hands had turned gray and the color was slowly creeping its way up the rest of his arm. I may not have seen one of your sort die, but this does not look good to me.
Speaker 1:Daphne carelessly dropped Ambrose's arm and fished in his pocket for the gold watch that had caught her eye earlier. Ambrose made a raspy, coughing noise that Daphne assumed was meant to be words. You think I can't handle myself around a man who gets too forward with me. She stood up and wrapped the chain of the pocket watch around her wrist, gently cupping it in her hand. She leaned over Ambrose, casting a shadow over his withering gray face. Doesn't matter what you are, you're all the same. Daphne watches. Ambrose's life drained completely out of his eyes and his skin was left a brittle gray mess. She stepped over his decaying body and looked up at the night sky. All the power in the world.
Speaker 3:Yeah, that's pretty good.
Speaker 1:Okay, that story was written by our friend Kate. We're such a fan of Kate. We thought it was such a great story and perfectly thematic for this series.
Speaker 3:Yeah, I mean, I think that checked a lot of boxes. First off, we had a surprise guest narrator. That was me. I didn't expect all the practice I've done with my silly Dracula voice to come in handy? Why don't you give us some feedback on yourself? As the narrator? I did a pretty good. I didn't expect all the practice I've done with my silly Dracula voice to come in handy.
Speaker 1:Why don't you give us some feedback on yourself as the narrator?
Speaker 3:I did a pretty good job, but, most importantly, you got to finally murder me, which is all you ever want.
Speaker 1:All I've ever wanted.
Speaker 3:So again this checked a lot of boxes.
Speaker 1:Yeah, thank you Kate for that. No, I love it. I think Kate did such a great job. Again, I get a bit squeamish, especially about some of that stuff, but I think she wove it into the story in a really cool way. Obviously, the story is super empowering and fun and plays a lot of vampire tropes, which you know we'd love to see it that was a very visceral description of the slits and wrists. No, it's making me woozy and I really appreciated it.
Speaker 3:it wasn't a long part of the story at all, but but, holy cow, I saw it yeah.
Speaker 1:Kate's a very brave writer. She doesn't shy away from violence or horror, especially as they relate to the story she's telling, and I really appreciate that.
Speaker 3:I think she does a great job. Good story, Good job Kate.
Speaker 1:Good job Kate, and good job Alan for your Dracula voice, and good job Alan for your.
Speaker 3:Dracula voice and good job, Abby, as your Daphne voice.
Speaker 1:Thank you very much. Well, alan. That's a wrap on the 2024 October Halloween season All right, see you. Don't forget to tune in to watch Midnight Snack on YouTube on Halloween night.
Speaker 3:Where can they find that?
Speaker 1:YouTubecom backslash the Lunatics Project with the, and we will, course, link everything, not only in this description but on social media. So definitely follow us at the lunatics project anywhere that you are on social media. Okay, check out our merch head to lunatics projectcom. Check out our very cool new england vampire panic merch. Thank you all so much for being here. I hope everybody watches the film Halloween on Halloween, because that is my favorite tradition in my whole life and I think we had a 10 out of 10 October. We did almost everything spooky that we could do and I'm thankful to you for that.
Speaker 3:You're welcome.
Speaker 1:Stay safe, everyone, please go vote and we'll talk to you very soon. Bye, thank you.
