Lunatics Library 3 - Necromancy Stories

This episode features three necromancy stories; Other worlds written by Abby Brenker and read by Miranda Warzel. Luz written and performed by Wi-Moto Nyoka, edited by Ianna A. Small, sound design is by Gabe Castro of The Ghouls Next Door. Direction by Gineiris Garcia, co-producer of Black Women Are Scary. And Old Bones written by Alan Kudan and read by Kevin Murphy.

Consider donating to Bread & Roses Black Liberation Fund and follow @BlackWomenAreScary on Instagram.

Consider donating to Asian Americans Advancing Justice: Atlanta.
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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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Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:17

Hello

Speaker 2: 0:18

And welcome to wood. It takes library. I'm Abby Brinker. I'm here with Alan Kadin. Hello. And today we have necromancy stories for you. Sure do. Sure do. And if you haven't listened to our whopping two-part series on the history of necromancy, be sure to check that out first, because it plays in very nicely to these stories. When I'm hearing stories of, you know, raising the dead, I prefer to have a historical background going into it. I mean, yeah. It's not necessary, but it does. I don't know. I thought it was so interesting. The history. So, you know, I mean, I sure learned quite a bit. Yeah, same. I will say it's always very interesting right. Researching these topics, but parts of the necromancy one were just like, almost like rabbit holes for me, you know, or I kind of went on one on little, um, deep dives on my own because I was so interested in those subject matter. You're telling me that this is the most research I've I've done for an episode. Yeah. Which was really fun. Yeah, it was cool. I can only imagine what you must do every week. Oh, you click on one thing and then you find out one thing. So you Google that other thing. So many tabs open so many tabs. So that's why you have all those tabs. You got so quick PSA for everyone out there, please just close your tabs. But here's the thing. When you're doing research for an episode over the span of a week or two, I don't want to close a tab and forget about an article that I haven't read. You know what I mean? It's like the way that I keep track of where I am. So I like to have my tabs open at two. I am. There's a great tool called bookmarks folder. Okay. We're going to kick things off with a story that I wrote called other world. And our dear friend of the pod Miranda Wars reads beautifully. This one is very connected to some of the earliest history of necromancy that we talked about. Like the shamanism, this idea of someone who is in a village who connects people with the spirits of their loved ones after they've died and also helps guide spirits to the afterlife, uh, spoilers. Let's just roll the tape. Let's roll the tape

Speaker 1: 2:39

By Miranda, her cobalt eyes blazed through the darkness, illuminating the human bones, stacked neatly in a pile on the dirt floor of the hut. She inhaled the cleansing sacred smoke, preparing her earthly body for her spiritual journey

Speaker 3: 3:00

To her left SOPs. His body shook with grief and fear to her right silence, a stoic witness. All the pieces were perfectly in place. They started to sink into the vibrations around her. She tilted her head back, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull, shifting her vision to the other world in her trance. A new color scape exploded around her neons and vivid bursts of bright saturation flooded her brain washing away the dusty muted colors of the real world and the buzz, the electric buzz of the other world that raised the hair on her arm, sending endless shivers through her body. She settled into her meditation using her mind to explore floating through the other world. She was barely aware that her corporal hand reached forward and grabbed a bone from the pile, a small femur, a child's bone, the father's moans from her left helped. She amplified the sound through herself and into this world. The specific sadness acting as bait luring, the lost soul closer. She stretched her spirit self as much as she could letting the grieving father's noises echo through the nooks and corners of her being, pushing it out louder and louder into the realm of the lost until movement through the vibrant hues. There was movement a wiggle, a young soul. Not yet sure what had even happened. She back-end for the little one to come closer. She could not speak here as her body remained in the real world, but she gathered up feelings of trust and safety and shot them through her being, filling the young spirit with warmth and hope it slid closer. Responding to her beacons. She made room for it, condensing her own spirit as small as she could until the spirit of the small boy filled her body in the real world. Her head snapped up. Her cobalt blue eyes were replaced with youthful green ones. What his meek voice escaped from her lips. The father choked on a moan and looked up startled to see the figure before him half Shumon, priestess, half little boy, his son, he flew forward. Embracing the woman, hoping the feelings of love posted deeply enough that they'd reach his boy. They did father father. The boy was delighted. Father I've missed you. The boys' spirit could see the familiar colors of the human world. He felt relief wash over him until he looked down realizing he wasn't in his old body anymore. But someone else's horrified. He saw the small bone in her hand. What's happening. He sobbed, fearful and confused. It's okay. His father reassured him. It's okay. Don't be scared. But uh, but the boy stammered out, demanding more answers. You die at little one. The priestesses voice echoed through your body died. She continued wisely, but nothing can kill us all. I'm dead. The boy asked out loud through her lips. She answered in his head. Yes, but death. Isn't the end of life. It's a portal into a higher plane. Eons knowledge now rests within you. You only need to learn how to harness that. Will you teach me? The boy asked his father was still shaking with grief clutching the shaman's body. It is not for me to teach. I am still alive in the first world. I have not yet transcended. It is you. That will one day teach me little one. With this knowledge, the boys send a spark of love through the body. He currently occupied filling his dad with extreme feelings of peace. A hush filled the tent, the boys spirit wiggled free and slept gracefully back into the other world. The grieving father released her body sitting back on his heels. He waited patiently for her striking blue eyes to reappear. Thank you. He bowed his head to her. She smiled and returned the gesture. The man left the hut, holding the deer skin flap a jar for the next villager, the next grieving or greedy saw looking for a second chance. I always Miranda's reading

Speaker 2: 8:56

Voice. I really liked that. I really love her folks. Yeah. She, I should say she does the effects herself. She certainly does. Yeah. So it was very cool. I, she did a similar effect in the South story episode, if you want to go back and listen to that one. But yeah, always, always wonderful that again, that story was, you know, more, and to be honest, I read it before doing a lot of the history. So it's not a hundred percent accurate, but you know, hopefully a, a good look at that period of time. I mean, you say that there's so many elements of the Norse necromancy. Yeah. Yeah. But not complete. I mean, you know, if, if you want to really be able to sort this one out for yourself, you got to listen to the episodes. Yeah. So now we have a really, really special story. So I want to talk about it a little bit before we play it. Okay. That I moved. The story is loose. It's written by[inaudible], who is part of a podcast called black women are scary. And we kind of connected on Instagram a while ago. So black women are scary, did a wonderful production of this story for this episode today. So sound design affects wonderful voice acting, and the story is so good. So I'm so excited to share it with you. That's awesome. Before we play it, I want to give you a little bit of background into we Moto. And some of the awesome work that black women are scary is doing. So we MODOT is a writer and trans media artist. She is the founder of dusky projects, creating and producing horror and sci-fi content for young adults and young audiences. And one of those projects is black. Women are scary, which is a radio dramatic podcast that celebrates and produces short horror stories by BiPAP authors and episodes are available everywhere. And they air the last Friday of every month. Cool. The other really cool thing about this podcast is that it's very community driven. So after they release an episode, the following Friday, they do something called the macabre mixer where they showcase the author play games based on their work and face the monsters together. And so you can, um, get RSVP links to the event available through their Instagram, which is again, black women are scary. Well, that sounds cool. Yeah, I know. It's very, yeah, it's very cool. I love the monsters together. Yeah. Sorry. That we're about to play was written and performed by[inaudible]. It was previously published in midnight in Indigo as part of their 22 speculative stories by black women writers. It was edited by Iyana, a small sound designed by Gabe Castro of the goals. Next door direction by generis Garcia co-producer of black women are scary. And one thing we've been doing recently is reaching out to people we're collaborating with on Luna takes library episodes to see if they have a non-for-profit or a charity, something that they want to ask people to donate to do they yes. So bread and roses, community fund. So bread and roses community fund is rooted in the idea of providing financial support to radical leadership for black liberation. Okay. Yeah. So I'll leave a link to that organization in the episode description so that you can follow that and donate. Awesome. Yeah. Rock on. Rock on. Okay. Well, can I, I want to get a story. I know it's very good. Okay. Here we go. Roll the tape. Rolling.

Speaker 4: 12:32

Bye.

Speaker 5: 13:36

I'm not good at being which to say that I'm incompetent wouldn't even cover it. My witchcraft is an amateur cocktail of earnest internet searches and a few conferences on Hutu, which turned out to really be crash courses on homeopathic remedies for self care. I have no idea what I'm doing and figure I will most likely to get the whole thing wrong and not survive the ritual. At least it's a nice night. I love the other Los Muertos ever since the trip I took to Mexico after the funeral, I've been a little obsessed with the idea of walls breaking down so that different worlds can touch. My belief is that people love so fiercely. They can do it across space, time, realities, dimensions, and different planes of existence. They bend the rules of the universe because the truth of the universe is that it's designed for that. And all anybody has to do is love enough. I[inaudible] love, you know, I became sure of this when the cold blunt email announcing that my mother's grave would be moved to a new location due to real estate development found its way to my inbox. There was a list of reasons given, but honestly, I don't remember because all that stuff was that folks were totally okay with building a new life on the graves of other people. So I did what anyone would do and became a witch in order to raise the dead. That brings us to the here and now I spread a ring of Ash around myself and the tombstone put down my mother's necklace and a lock of baby's hair. I had cut off one of the toddlers and the daycare I worked at this last item had cost me the job, but I was already tired of the diapers, the low pay and the total lack of respect for my time. Nothing has felt the same since my mother died. And I know that if this doesn't work, people just say, I have gone crazy from grief.

Speaker 1: 15:55

Would it be wrong?

Speaker 5: 15:59

My eyes to concentrate fully on my desires and how far I'm willing to go for them. Magic. Wasn't about words I discovered, but about intention and having the will to see it through. I take a deep breath and let everything go quiet in my mind. Then with no fanfare, I bring the doves blood to my lips and throw it back. It tastes like liquid copper and my torso goes hot instantly. As I swallow the last drop, the circle of Ash ignites, and I can feel the warmth on my cheeks from the small ring of fire that surrounds me before I even get the chance to celebrate my success, my whole body jerks. And I fall forward as it being pulled. My, my guts, all my courage disappears, and the terror starts to set in. I think to myself, as I dig my nails into the dirt and brace for impact the trembling in my body, intensifies and spreads until I feel wetness trickled down inside of my thighs, Oh. I grant to the stoic tombstones around me. I lived my autumn dress to find blood and a wave of cramps brings me down to all fours, Uh, bleeding doesn't stop. And I figured this is probably the end. I had written two notes, one, which is in my jacket pocket and the other, I left in my apartment, making sure that my mother would know why she had been brought back and what to do the dirt underneath me begins to bubble. But I don't think instead I watch my blood stretch out and mix with the earth. As it travels inward and shapes itself, a forehead followed by a nose, a mouth and stretch up towards me. Hands gripped me by both wrists at its eyes. Snap open, No mistake. It's my mom and a scream rips through me while I continue to bleed. My thighs feel hot and my face is wet with tears. My mother uses her grip to pull way. She opens her mouth and an incredible gas becomes out. That takes out the light on. She starts to glow like a deep sea fish. As she moves over,

Speaker 1: 19:14

Where am I?

Speaker 5: 19:17

She looks around then lets her new eyes settle on me.

Speaker 1: 19:23

You look off, I laugh, but

Speaker 5: 19:28

It turns into a sob almost immediately Reach for each other. And then we're hugging and the whole world falls away. I forget about the blood in the cup and on my thighs. I forget about the funeral and the painful days afterwards. I forget that I'm an horseman

Speaker 1: 19:50

And I

Speaker 5: 19:50

Hold on tight to my mom Because everything is how it should be.

Speaker 1: 20:00

Mamas. Shouldn't live forever. And now they do. I don't need to do anything else.

Speaker 5: 20:10

She pulls back to get a good look at me and I let her eyes trace my face and body. Her gay stops at my blood cupboard thighs.

Speaker 1: 20:24

Hello.

Speaker 5: 20:27

She looks at me with such love and concern that I have to turn away. Shame stretches across my face. Nothing is worth the price for this. She says gently tear, sting my eyes, but I hold them back and press forward with my plan. I command all the souls to rise. My mother can do no more than obey. And she Springs up word onto a nearby mausoleum. She begins to shimmer as the dirt ripples out and why. And the dead start to pull

Speaker 1: 21:16

[inaudible]

Speaker 5: 21:17

To the night sky.

Speaker 1: 21:22

[inaudible]

Speaker 5: 21:22

The real estate company. His office is on the 19th floor of a glisten building located in the financial heart of the city. We've crashed the windows into a well lit empty office and start destroying everything inside. I had straight for the manager's office, hoping to find whatever paperwork that green lit the operation on the dead

Speaker 1: 21:48

Because who cares and destroy it instead. I'm fine. The manager cowering behind his desk. My mother jumps on to it to get a better book at him. And he starts to pray. What are you doing here? A demand please. Oh God, God help me. He continues to Wimber. Where's the file to let you move grapes. His eyes move from the enemy to growing corpse. To me. I'm sorry. It's too late for construction. They're going to move. Everyone's starting tomorrow. I, I, I didn't do it. Wasn't me. They told me I can't hear the explanation over the sound of my blood rushing into my head. My face feels hot. I'm tingly all over from. I order my loving to grab him. And I watch as she lifted him up until his feet are dangling above the floor. Care. Don't care if it's your job, don't care. If he was sorry. No, one's going to take my mother's green. No one's going to take anything. And I watch his body go limp before deflating onto an office chair. I thought I'd be exhausted. But instead I feel awake, horribly awake and a warm sensation spreads out from my heart to the tips of moose. My mother says softly. Get about just, and then what? My voice is cold. Even to me and my mother shivers at the sound of it, we need to set an example. It's the only way to stop. No one steals from people they're afraid of. What do you mind? I pull myself up to my feet as my mother and all the dead. Listen. I turned to look out at the city, my city one last time, take out everyone that helps them do this. Dryness coats, my throat. And I have to swallow before answering to ask for something like this comes with a hefty price and the intention has to be clear. I give up all my ties to creation in the name of vengeance, the dead levitate all at once. Smash through that. Haven't already been broken by gaze, Oh, darkness falls on the city. One mile at a time. I can hear cars, crushing horns honking. Finally people screaming since my mother come grateful and try to smile. But the pain takes over immediately. I spit up at two and get the chance to stare at it in my Palm for my breasts, begin to compress and shrivel the taste of pen spills. My mouth says more of my teeth fall out. My mother Hubbard's near me. As I fall to my anguish. I'm bleeding from my crotch again. And this time it's really thick. I feel as though I'm being by my tendons and have to lay out on my back, there's nothing to be done. My dad caves in on itself at a time until my voice gives my tears dry. My blood empties out and death takes over. I see the shimmer of my mother before all light disappears. Yeah, no. This fell over the city. The morning after as people slowly came out of hiding from their night of terror, everyone had to take into damage and do the math buildings had to be fixed. Bodies had to be collected and whole communities had to begin. Mickey will range me. People thought it was gone. No one guessed was a woman, no one ever connected me to the event or even considered that someone could've must've summoned the dead. By the time they found my body, it was nothing but a husk. I spent months in a cold drawer with a Jane DOE tag before anybody bothered to match my dental records with my remains, no one came to claim my body and I was cremated and tossed into the river with the other collateral damage in a televised Memorial, the reconstruction only took them up, but the recovery never came. Folks abandoned their luxury condos, their studios, their brownstones, their apartments, their homes, downtown slid into emptiness, except for those who couldn't afford to go anywhere else or just couldn't bear to give up everything, slid into affordability. As the city stopped being a destination spot as for the rest of the nation, they created new franchises reliving the night, and they told the story of the once jug or not in metropolis and it's[inaudible]. But in the city, people mourned together and the tenderness flew between no one ever took from anyone anymore. However, have mom last, my city found love. I hope we love enough this time.

Speaker 2: 29:58

Yeah, that was awesome. Yeah. It was amazing. Wasn't it? We need more full radio dramas.[inaudible] yeah, totally. They did such a good job, but this story is so good. The writing is so good. And the effects there were, some of the effects were like, so you like the, the bones. And she was coming out of the grave, like teeth falling out. That was, that was, that got me. I got, yeah, I got shivers during the story. And you got some real classic Hollywood necromancy in there too. Yeah, totally. That's an amazing thing. It was fun. Yeah, it was exactly. Yeah. Well you can check out black women are scary. The podcast is available everywhere and they have a new episode every month. And the story, you know, the episodes that they have live, there's so many good ones. So you can definitely go and binge them. And of course follow them at black women are scary on Instagram for more information around the mock-up mixers and all the other cool stuff that they're working on. And of course, check out bread and roses community fund. We will leave a link to that below in the show notes below, below what we'll leave filling to that in the show notes. And of course, if you are not already following Miranda, Wardell at alien thought meat. You got to do that too. I have a surprise for you for me sorta. I mean yeah, for everyone. Okay. What's a surprise. I wrote a story. You did. I did a necromancy story. Yes, it is about necromancy. Wow. I had no idea. I'm so excited. I really wanted to do something on a scale of answer. Oh. And it kinda got a little, little different, a little out of hand sorta. Well, yeah. Well just here, here we go. I love a bonus surprise out of hand story.

Speaker 4: 32:26

Oh, hi, Kevin Murphy.

Speaker 6: 32:33

Old man, eased himself into the chair. He had spent many afternoons just like this, sitting on his back porch, overlooking the garden. The garden was his late wife's favorite place in the world. And she used to spend every free moment. She could tending it. He couldn't imagine a better resting place for her. After she passed the weeds were getting a bit out of control though. I know, I know he said toward the spot where his wife lay I'll get to it. First thing in the morning, the pounding on his front door broke the moment the old man pushed himself up and made his way through the house. He grumbled to himself because he already knew who it was. Well, he didn't know exactly who it was, but he knew what they wanted. He opened the front door to reveal a greasy looking businessman in a cheap suit with an even cheaper smile. Good afternoon said the unwelcome visitor. I assume you are. Mr. Edgar Harper. You are a hard man to get a hold of. My name is Mr. Garth Warren and I represent the legal interests of I'm not selling interjected Edgar, a moment passed, but the businessman's plastic smile did not falter Mr. Harper, the slime began again. My employer has extended a very generous offer for your property far more than it's worth. If I may be so bold, if you would permit me to come inside for just a moment, we can, this is my home always has been and always will be again, interjected Edgar. Now I think you should leave the briefest shadow flicked across the businessmen's face. You speak very plainly. And I appreciate that. Now I will return the favor. My employer intends to acquire your property and he will do so. So your choice is simple. Sell willingly, make a tidy sum and live out the rest of your years or have a very unfortunate accident. I assure you. It makes little difference in the end to anyone except yourself. The man said as he pulled out some documents and presented them. So do we have an understanding? Edgar gave the man a hard stare, but then got lost in his head for a moment and chuckled. I'm glad you find this amusing, Mr. Harper. No, it's just that my wife always had a knack for dealing with men. Like you she'd loved to tell you where to stick that paper. Sorry. No, that whole folder, the businessmen seemed to expect this and Cooley put the papers away very well. Mr. Harper enjoy the rest of your day. Edgar lay on the picnic blanket with closed eyes. He stared up at the summer sun. Suddenly he grabbed his wife next to him, enjoying the youth in his muscles. As he rolled her on top of him, seductive seriousness in her dark Hazel eyes pierced image. She read his mind. What about France? She asked c'mon Marie, I'm too old for this. You don't seem too old to me. She teased as she put a hand firmly on his chest. It's not about picking the right place. It's about leaving this one. I don't want to give up my home our home. I could never leave you. She sighed and settled her head under his chin. I know Eddie. You can't the sound of breaking glass, jolted, Edgar awake. He listened to the silence of his dark house. Then a heavy boot stepping on glass shards sounded from the living room below Edgar. He grabbed his father's old Billy club that hung on the back of the door and started to creep downstairs, staring through the stair banister. He could see two men. One was an enormous man with blonde hair and a scar along the side of his face. The other, a small, all dark haired and weasel faced goon was struggling to get a large container. Open moments later, there was a pop and the man began to slosh across the floor. The smell of gas hit Edgar's nose and he gripped the Billy club harder. The men hadn't seen him yet, so he could probably get in one good swing, better go for the big guy. Edgar began to creep down the remaining stairs when he was suddenly taken aback. Are you nuts? He said in a harsh whisper, I won't the sloshing of gasoline continued and just let this trash burn the house. This is our home. I'm not going to run. So just leave me alone. Edgar, put his hand to his mouth. As he was reminded that he needed to stay quiet. He looked along the living room, weasel face was still sloshing. The gas. He was scanning around for the big guy. When two powerful hands pulled Edgar up and over the banister and threw him hard into the wooden floor. Got him called the big thug. Well, well said weasel face so much for burning to death in your sleep Edgar's body was throbbing, but he could see that the Billy club had rolled to the base of the cellar door. He crawled his way to it. The men watched an amusement. He grabbed the club and slowly with tremendous effort, got to his feet. He braced his back against the door for support and raised his weapon. Weasel faze shook his head with pity. As the big guy smiled in a flash, a huge boot slammed it to Edgar's chest the door, supporting him broke, open and Edgard tumbled down the old wooden steps to the cellar. The goons trot down the steps after him and flipped on the light there. Edgar lay broken and struggling to breathe on the cobblestone floor of a bare earth and root cellar. Looking around the goon saw various dusty crates and jars all long neglected, but in the corner, surrounded by gardening tools was a small altar with a vase of fresh flowers. It was free from Dustin had a woman's picture hanging above it and circled by various runes carved right into the earth and wall on which the picture hung. The weasel faced. Man looked at it for a moment before growing bored and returning to Edgar. This could have been much more pleasant for you. Old man said weasel phases. He crouched next to Edgar. All you had to do was sell your junky little house. However it's actions like yours that keep me in my associate comfortably employed. I guess we owe you one emotion to his partner who went over to the gardening tools and began rummaging for his weapon of choice.

Speaker 7: 39:12

Get up. Eddie said the woman's voice and Edgar's head Edgar didn't respond. You need to get up and fight. I can't croaked out. Edgar. These men are about to kill you at a being dead.

Speaker 6: 39:28

It seems so bad. We'd be together again. Slurred Edgar through a bloody mouth

Speaker 7: 39:34

Christ. Eddie. If you're just going to lay there like a bum, then I'll do this. Myself. The huge thug

Speaker 6: 39:40

Came back with his selection of a large metal shovel weasel face rolled Edgar onto his back and the two men towered over him. What the hell are you smiling for old man, sneered weasel face. You're going to get to meet my wife. Some debris fell from the earth and wall. The two thugs looked over to the spot on the wall behind the little altar. The runes carved into the hard dirt. Now had a faint orange pulsing glow, more dirt fell away from the wall. Something was grinding and shifting in the earth. Coming closer, digging suddenly a skeletal hand burst through the wall. The thugs jumped back and surprised as they watch the hand of Rob bone claw, the whole making it wider. A second hand grip the side of the Fisher and began to pull the rest of its body through the wall. The men watched in terror as a reanimated skeleton clad only in a disintegrated dress pulled itself to its feet. Edgar simply shifted to prop his back against a crate to watch with talent like fingers outstretched, the skeleton rush. The men, the large thug found his nerve. First. He swung the heavy metal shovel into the abomination with all his might with an explosion of bones, the skeleton shattered. The thug, lifted the shovel for another swing and waited. Did you kill it? Squeak the weasel faced, man, they waited nothing. I think it's dead said the large man as he slowly lowered the shovel weasel face world on Edgar only to find him giving them a pitying smile. You can't kill something. That's already dead. He told the men, they just need bones to come back again and well, the magic doesn't require the bones to already be dead. What the hell are you going on about snap? The scared little goon. His focus shifted suddenly as the shovel clattered to the ground. He looked at his partner in horror as the big man began to scream, but only for a second before his large throw seized up, his entire body went rigid, but something seemed to be shifting inside of him with a horrible ripping sound to red glistening skeletal arms ripped forth from the big man's flesh and latched onto the other's throat. The eyes of the weasel faced man bulge with terror. As he watched a bloody skeleton step forth out of his partner, the big man's rigid body suddenly went Slack and with a sickening slap the discarded boneless meat sack fell to the ground. The little goons struggled for only a moment longer, but the audible snap of his neck reverberated around the small earth and cellar Edgar slowly pulled himself to his feet and began to hobble back up the stairs behind him. The skeleton was already beginning to drag the remains of the men back through the hole in the wall and into the earth

Speaker 1: 42:45

At a, you really should give more consideration toward moving somewhere else said the familiar female voice in Edgar's head. This place is way more trouble than it's worth.

Speaker 6: 42:55

Edgar continued slowly climbing the steps I've told you, Marie, this is our home always has been, always

Speaker 1: 43:05

Will be Alan. Dan. Yes.

Speaker 2: 43:14

That was one of your best you think so? Yes. It's also one of my two stories. You've written more than two stories. Oh yes. Werewolves in space Medusa. Meduse I always forget about Medusa. It just happened. So I think it falls into the top three. I mean, it's very, I really liked the premise of it and I liked the tension. You put the characters in it. Wasn't just like, Oh, this is a guy who controls his wife. It was like, you know, the landlords are coming. I don't, I don't think he controlled his wife at all. No, you know what I mean? He, he did necromancy on her sorta. Yeah. So, well, first off I, you know, I have to thank a few people for help with this, uh, first and foremost, Kevin Murphy for lending his incredible voice talents. So good. I love it. Uh, and for the development side, I got to do a quick shout out to Justin Chan and Matt O'Brien, um, metal. Brian had the great idea of what if the guy from up was a necromancer. It sounds like a very mad Oprah idea. I mean, I think it's great. It worked out well. I love the story because you know everyone, cause I was talking about like, well, what if he's like an old man in modern day? How the hell does that fit? And then just went off on this tangent about like what to thinking about that guy from up. I'm like that's cool. Yeah. Add a little romance. A little intrigued. Yeah. Well this little, that little spice little pepper. Yeah. You end up with a wonderful stew. Well, I guess that wraps up this huge series that we've done here on necromancy biggest necromancy series we've ever done. That's true. That's true. You think either of us, either of us, yeah. Individually or together, thank you all so much for listening. Please support all of the artists that contributed to this episode and stay tuned for some more spooky stuff coming at you in the weeks to come where you have necromancy. We love necromancy and we learned a lot. And if you have your own necromancy story, email us@filmsaboutlunaticsatgmail.com. No, no wait, go to the website, right? You can just type into the website. Yeah. So you could submit through, uh, the website or by emailing us@filmsaboutlunatakesthatgmail.com. Of course we've already done our necromancy episode now, but if enough people submit, we could definitely do a, follow-up a follow-up necromancy story yet. Sad one day. I think there's just going to be eventually, there's just going to be an episode. That's just like stuff we have that we have and yeah, yeah, totally. That's actually going to be the exact name of it. It'll be like one, one episode a month of like random story time, you know, horror, bedtime stories or whatever. As always, you can follow us on Instagram at the lunatics project, you can also giving to our Patrion for bonus episodes and access to lunatics magazine, and most importantly, subscribe to the podcast if you like it and tell a friend about it. Well, thank you guys so much for listening and we will see you next time.

Speaker 8: 46:37

[inaudible].