Lunatics Radio Hour
The history of horror and the horror of history.
Lunatics Radio Hour
Lunatics Library 42 - Hitchcock Inspired Horror Stories
Abby and Alan are thrilled to present Hitchcock inspired horror stories.
Claudia was written by Marisca Pichette and read by Lissa Sweeney. Check out Marisca’s poetry collection Rivers in Your Skin, Sirens in Your Hair. And follow her website: www.mariscapichette.com or IG: @marisca_write. Follow Lissa on IG at LissaSweeney.
Me, A Hero was written by Warren Benedetto and read by Mike Macera. Visit warrenbenedetto.com and follow @warrenbenedetto on Twitter and Instagram. Check out Mike’s band Beach Therapy.
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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Hello everyone and welcome back to another episode of the Lunatics Radio Hour podcast. I am Abbey Brinker sitting here with Alan Kudan.
Speaker 2:Hello.
Speaker 1:And today we're following up our last episode, which was a deep dive into the life and crimes and films of Alfred Hitchcock, with two really, really well-written and beautifully narrated Hitchcock-inspired horror stories for you.
Speaker 2:I am so curious how this is going to go. Stories for you. I'm so curious how this is going to go. This is kind of like Dancing Plague. This seems like a really, really specific topic. How are we going to do stories here?
Speaker 1:We got some good ones. I'm excited for you to hear how these modern day stories are going to tie into the theme of Hitchcock. Of course, if you missed it, go back and listen to our last episode, which again is all about his life and his works and how very complicated they were at the end of the day. And I am really excited for this as well, because I understand your point, alan, from last time, that Hitchcock doesn't scream Halloween to you. But around this time we usually kind of do a deep dive into a franchise and I thought let's start with the building blocks here a little bit. We've done a lot of the Universal Monsters which predate Hitchcock. We've done some of the slasher franchises which post-date Hitchcock. So it seems kind of like a good middle ground. And then, you know, next Halloween we'll pick something, We'll let you pick, whatever the series is. How about that?
Speaker 2:Really, yep Really.
Speaker 1:I'll get approval.
Speaker 2:I need this in writing, or at least recorded. Please say, say the words.
Speaker 1:Next Halloween you can pick, with approval from Abby no no, cut that out the series. The Halloween Say the whole thing again. Next Halloween, Alan can pick the topic, one of the topics for the month of October, October 2025.
Speaker 2:He just really just like, like really, you just neutered it abby's gonna have a veto clause. Can you? Can you stop lobotomizing my rights?
Speaker 1:no, because I don't, I really truly don't trust you're. You're picking, you're gonna pick like what am I gonna pick? You're gonna pick something like jojo's great adventure that would be awesome exactly.
Speaker 2:Do you have any idea how horror themed that is?
Speaker 1:Right, and you're going to tell us all about it in 18 parts.
Speaker 2:The whole first season is inspired by Castlevania.
Speaker 1:Let me remind you the last time this happened, when you picked Godzilla and we had four episodes, which was 18 hours of content that I had just you blabbing that I had to cut down to four cohesive episodes. I'm just saying.
Speaker 2:What's your point? That was quality content, all you want is content.
Speaker 1:It's for such a niche audience.
Speaker 2:There's, no, there's very few people who love Godzilla. May I remind you of Dancing Plague.
Speaker 1:Okay, you love Dancing Plague, I do. Okay, I do and I'm the niche audience it worked out it worked out anyway, I also want to make it clear that you are part of the decisions of the topics. It is not only me that I beg to differ okay, well, you'll get to pick the, the franchise that we cover, next time. Thank, you okay, why don't we cool things off here and kick off with our first hitchcock inspired story of the episode?
Speaker 2:All right, we're just going to roll the table. You and I go in the other room and fight.
Speaker 1:Okay, here we go. Claudia, written by Mariska Pichette, read by Liesel Sweeney.
Speaker 4:Theodore Massey was working late. Time had quickened in the lengthening hours and night was fast on the heels of dusk. Outside his window, pigeons pecked and strutted across the roof, apocalyptic shadows against the New York City skyline. Under the last descending rays of sun, theodore typed up a final note, pulled the page from his typewriter and laid it in the tray to sleep until the next day. This done, he closed his briefcase, rubbing his aching eyes. He would not be home in time for dinner tonight. He ought to tell Claudia. As he reached for the phone, his gaze fell on a small note written on lavender paper, wedged under a dusty paperweight. He smiled as he read it again have a wild day, claudia. Scribbled next to her name was a small cartoon of an orchid, her favorite. Theodore touched the note as he picked up the phone with his other hand and dialed his home number. The phone rang and rang, finally going to message At the tone he said Hello, darling, I'll be back a little bit later tonight. Abruptly he heard Claudia's smiling, breathless voice yes, teddy, I'm here. He grinned, swiveling around in his chair to look outside. The sun flattened at the horizon, sending sparks of light skidding over the roofs of nearby buildings. In between timid shadows, mustered the courage to stretch, filling the intervening space with night. Hi darling, he murmured, warmth filling him. Two pigeons ambled past his window, their heads jerking forward and back like jackhammer spades. I'll be back in about forty minutes, he said, watching the birds blacken in the silhouettes, their three-dimensionality surrendered to the onslaught of the setting sun. Okay, teddy, I'll be waiting for you. Claudia, said her voice soft. Theodore smiled I'll hurry back. Do I love you? Love you too, blossom. He set the phone down and grabbed his briefcase, struggling into his coat. As he walked away from his desk Outside his window, the pigeons took flight back to their nighttime roosts.
Speaker 4:Theodore was one of the last people still in his office building and he nodded to the few co-workers he passed on his way out, their scattered faces luminous in the glow of the setting sun. Mostly, however, his mind was occupied by the thought of Claudio waiting to greet him when he got home. He hated being away from her, even for this long. They had been together for four years. Claudio was a lovely little thing, though she tended to be reclusive and had few friends of her own. Theodore didn't mind, for he had never been good at navigating the bonds of friendship himself and he was quite content to devote all his free time to Claudia. At the front doors, theodore encountered the security guard Good night Lester. He called over his shoulder. As he hurried outside into the fading light, the haggard little man waved a withered hand. Night, mr Massey, freed at last. From the confining building.
Speaker 4:Theodore breathed in the slow, dense air of twilight. It settled, with the shadows, driving people back to their homes like the rising tide. Usually he didn't mind the heavy feel of the air, but tonight it felt, cloying, crowding his throat. As he walked to his car, two pigeons scattered at his approach, winging up into the clouded sky. It was past seven o'clock when he was finally inching through traffic.
Speaker 4:Five minutes from his apartment, just before the exit he wished to take, the crawling cars shuddered to a halt and traffic slid to an abrupt standstill. He craned his neck, frowning at the automotive mire. Claudia would be worried if his commute was longer than he'd said. He didn't want to worry her. It was bad for her health. As he sat he heard the ringing bells of sirens. Theodore rolled down his window and leaned out into the cool air. The languid snake of traffic slid to the side of the road as a fire engine sped past, followed by an ambulance. Theodore watched them go, wondering where they were headed. A few seconds later, another fire engine followed lights flashing. It shrank into the distance, but echoes of sirens remained long after the lights vanished. For a reason he couldn't pinpoint, theodore rolled up his window, pushing the heavy air out of his car. He itched to be home with Claudia. Gradually, the traffic lessened and cars began shifting forward once more.
Speaker 4:Ten minutes later, theodore was speeding down the exit ramp, eager to reach his destination at last, he opened his window. As he pulled up the street, peering into the gloom, a heavy city breeze blew in his face, bringing with it the smell of smoke. As he turned onto his street, he began to worry. Lights flashed in the dark red orange, red orange, white, white, white and several emergency vehicles blocked his apartment building. From view, he saw two fire engines, a couple of police cars and an ambulance. Smoke filled the air he strained to see, telling himself that it was probably just an accident with a cigarette or maybe a singed carpet or stove fire. But the scent of smoke was too strong and as he pulled over as close as he could get to the scene, he saw the flashing lights reflect off a dense dark cloud billowing up around his building. Fear clutched his heart.
Speaker 4:Theodore sprang from his car, neglecting even to close the door. As he ran, claudia, he screamed. Firemen turned at his approach, claudia, one of the men grabbed his arm. What floor is she on? Theodore shook his head. Sixth, oh please. She doesn't do well with smoke. The man nodded short.
Speaker 4:Sharp Fire started on the seventh floor. She should be okay, we're getting everyone out. Theodore swallowed the sting of smoke in his eyes, nose and mouth. He tried to remain calm walking over to the group of milling people pointed out to him by the firemen. He searched their faces but didn't see Claudia anywhere. She was so small so perhaps she was just lost in the crowd. Theodore, he wheeled at her voice, looking around desperately. Claudia was nowhere to be found. He strained his eyes and ears walking through the crowd. Then he heard her again, teddy. Oh, come get me please. Theodore looked up at the burning apartment building. Smoke was pouring from the seventh floor, swirling in mesmerizing patterns in the harsh flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. Dropping his gaze to the sixth floor, he gasped. He could already see a handful of rooms alight, with the blaze starting at the far edge and moving inward. He stared up at the disaster and soon found his own window and the source of the voice. A small face peeped out at him, one he knew too well.
Speaker 5:Claudia.
Speaker 4:Her head was drooping. She was nearly overwhelmed by the smoke. Teddy, help me. Without a second thought, theodore ran for the doors. A fireman attempted to stop him, but he pushed the man away with more strength than he'd expected. He burst through the doors into the lobby.
Speaker 4:The first floor showed no signs of damage and Theodore headed for the stairs, his limbs shaking with dread, up to the second floor. He saw no one. The building appeared to have been completely emptied, but poor Claudia, she was left behind. He fumed with anger and fear as he pounded up the steps up to the third floor. Halfway, hey, a fireman emerged from the door leading to the third floor. What are you doing in here? Hey? Theodore ignored him and kept running. He had to get to Claudia Before Before.
Speaker 4:He wheezed as he passed the fourth floor, forcing himself to keep going. He couldn't let her down, not now. They'd spent so much time together, never with others. Really, it was always the two of them talking and watching the birds. Claudia loved to watch the birds outside the window.
Speaker 4:On weakening legs, he made it to the fifth floor. He could hear the firemen chasing him from the floor below. Only one more flight would bring him to Claudia With a crash. He burst through the door on the sixth floor. The hallway was filled with smoke and he gagged, staggering through the painful clouds, squinting, watering eyes at the rooms he passed. Fumbling in his pockets, he looked for his keys. With a shock he realized he'd left his keys in the car. Claudia, he shrieked, feeling the heat pressing in his lungs suffocating him. Claudia, he shrieked, feeling the heat pressing in his lungs suffocating him.
Speaker 4:The rooms on this side of the floor were not yet ablaze, but he could see the light penetrating the dense clouds of smoke further along. He stumbled into the door to his apartment and pounded on it. Claudia, barely audible, he heard a response Teddy, down the hall, the stairwell door flew open and the firemen rushed towards him. Sir, you need to get out of here, it's not safe. The fire is spreading. Theodore threw himself against his door. Claudia, she's in there, someone's in there. Mutely, theodore nodded. Tears were streaming from his eyes, products of smoke in the stress. Firemen took one look at him then nodded All right, stand well back. Theodore did as he was told. He couldn't hear anything else from the apartment and that worried him. As the fireman threw his weight against the door, he called Claudia, we're coming in. Stand back. The door burst off its hinges, splinters flying past Theodore's face and lodging in his hair.
Speaker 4:The fireman disappeared into the apartment and Theodore followed without hesitation, choking on the smoke. He headed straight for the window. Claudia was sitting on the sill, her head resting against the glass. She looked wilted. All the color seemed to have left her face. Theodore fell to his knees in front of her, sobbing Gingerly. He reached up and touched her neck, stroking her Claudia. She did not respond.
Speaker 4:The fireman came back into the main room. Looking around, he turned to Theodore. I can't find her, sir. Looks like no one's in here. Theodore gathered Claudia's limp form in his arms and turned away from the window. Smoke stung in his eyes. We were too late, he said. The fireman frowned at him. She must have gone off somewhere and not told you, sir. Meanwhile, we've got to get you out of here before the smoke takes you.
Speaker 4:Theodore nodded and walked over to the battered door. The fireman followed, curiously silent. He eyed Theodore as they moved back down the stifling hallway towards the relative safety of the stairwell. What have you got there, he asked as they began descending the many steps to the ground floor. Talking was too much. Theodore held Claudia closer, smelling her sweet fragrance even through the smoke, the fireman grunted, increasing their pace. Looks like an orchid, he said in the face of Theodore's silence. Then, thoughtfully, those things are a devil to grow Very finicky. This smoke and fire won't have done it much good.
Speaker 4:When they got back outside, theodore thanked the fireman and walked mechanically back to his car. His mind was empty, his limbs numb and heavy as the air around him. Blood trickled from his scalp where a splinter from his own door had grazed him. He didn't notice the pain. He set Claudia down inside the car. She was very light. For a long time he stood and stared at her beautiful face as lights flashed and smoke crowded the air. He watched Claudia's face for some sign of her vibrancy, her life. A single petal broke away and drifted down onto the seat. It had a red edge to it like blood. Theodore wept High above the smoke. A lone pigeon flew off into the night.
Speaker 1:So that story comes to us from our friend Mariska Pichette, who has now contributed quite a few stories for Lunatics Radio Hour, and we are such a fan of her writing. You can check out her poetry collection Rivers in your Skin, sirens in your Hair, and the story was also beautifully and delicately narrated by our friend Lisa Sweeney. But tell us Alan, tell us your thoughts.
Speaker 2:Okay. So here's the thing. Tell us this was a Hitchcock inspired story, very much so, which made me think there was going to be a twist.
Speaker 1:And there was a twist. The twist it was a plant, a great twist. I didn't see it coming.
Speaker 1:I thought, I really thought that the twist was going to be that the guy had, like, imagined that this was. You know that there was a woman, a fictional woman, who wasn't there, but then it's a plant. And if you go back and re-listen which I've done now because I edited the story and I've read it there's so many hints throughout the story about orchids and about plants and about how he talks, about how delicate she is and small and all of these. It's when you re-listen to it. So you know, go ahead and re-listen to it.
Speaker 2:There's a lot of little hints throughout, which is really nice. On a on a second listen. That's a lot of fun. I love when there's a twist ending and on the second pass through. It's so obvious because of all the hints. Yeah, that's good writing. Yeah, uh, I can't tell you how many times I've re-watched certain films simply because of the twist ending, just trying to find, like the little nuggets that they shove in there.
Speaker 1:It's another layer of craftsmanship for sure.
Speaker 2:It's just great writing, and that's. That's all you need.
Speaker 1:That's the most important thing.
Speaker 2:Yep.
Speaker 1:So this story was beautifully read for us by our friend Lisa Sweeney. You can follow Lisa on Instagram at Lisa Sweeney, and I will add all this in the description of the podcast. Of course, you can also follow Mariska Pichette at Mariska Pichette on Twitter, slash x at Mariska underscore, right on Instagram. Again, we will link everything below and if you are curious about her work, you can check out her website, mariska Pichettecom. But I agree with you, you know, when I was first like okay, let's, this is one of those series that could certainly have not had a Lunatics Library episode to go with it. That would have been totally fine. But I put out the call because I was like, okay, we're doing this anyway and we got these stories and they're so good. So it kind of worked out and I was really impressed that the writers had something that felt so perfectly Hitchcock but also was so much of their own and not like a copycat, not not stealing any plot lines, right, it's still quite unique to the writer and that was. That was really cool.
Speaker 2:This has happened so many times, where we put out a niche topic, yeah, and the writers come through with like, well, I don't know, maybe this and it's like this is fucking perfect yeah, yeah, okay, should we listen to the next story?
Speaker 1:please okay first just a little content, warning that this story is a little bit darker than the first one and also contains stalking be a hero, written by warren benedetto, read by mike lucero. A hero, read by Warren Benedetto, read by Mike LeShera.
Speaker 5:They call it a ghost forest Thousands of white cedars protruding from the swamp, their bark the color of bloodless skin, their branches barren against the corpse gray sky. It hasn't always looked like this. When I was growing up, the woods here were verdant and full of life, the wetlands teemed with tadpoles and salamanders, plus the occasional snake whipping through the bright green algae-topped water. But in the last decade or so the rising tides caused by climate change have flooded the wetlands with brackish saltwater, poisoning the trees and decimating the wildlife. The land is sick, terminally ill, more dead than alive.
Speaker 5:The police decided to search here based on an anonymous tip called into the station from an unlisted number. The caller knew details about the missing girl, about the circumstances of her disappearance, that would have been impossible to know if he hadn't been involved. He knew about the van, about the hammer, about the fingernail. Those were material facts from the investigation that hadn't been released to the public. Either he had been responsible for the girl's murder or he knew someone who was. Regardless, it gave police plenty of reason to believe that the tip was real. Of course, the police weren't the only ones who got a call that day. Wpvi-tv News in Philadelphia received a call too. They weren't given any information, though, just a place to show up and a time to be there. The caller promised a surprise, a newsworthy surprise.
Speaker 5:Gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled my Honda to a stop. On the side of the road there were already at least a dozen vehicles parked along the shoulder, with more filling the small dirt parking lot at the edge of the woods. It used to be a popular picnic spot before the forest had succumbed to the influx of saltwater from the bay. A few picnic tables remained, their rotted boards and rusted skeletons, a grim reminder of a happier era. A faded brown sign informed visitors that they were at the Cedar Creek picnic area. Another sign depicted a stick figure tossing a piece of litter into a trash can Pitch in. Most of the vehicles in the lot were police cars, along with an ambulance and a black van with coroner stamped on the side in bold white letters.
Speaker 5:Clearly the police were prepared for the worst. It was no surprise, given the state of the crime scene. They found there had been so much blood in the bedroom, in the living room, in the kitchen. It seemed unlikely that anyone could have survived. Still, the girl's family held on to hope, staging press conferences, making statements on TV pleading for her safe return. They must have known it was futile, but what else could they do? Until her body was found, they had to believe she was okay. That's what they told themselves anyway. I was under no such illusions. The girl was dead, I was sure of it.
Speaker 5:The police had interviewed the girl's family, her ex-boyfriend, her co-workers, her neighbors, even the barista at the local coffee shop that she frequented every morning, but to no avail. Nobody had seen her, nobody knew where she might have gone. She had no enemies, no secrets, no reason to run away, nothing to hide, no one to fear. Whatever had happened to her, people said it must have been random A drifter, a psychopath, a serial killer. Even the police doubted that was the case. Most murders were committed by someone the victim knew, but they weren't ruling anything out.
Speaker 5:Since the girl disappeared, some of her friends had turned her regular table in the corner of the coffee shop into a makeshift shrine with a large 8x10 photo plus a few flowers, candles and even a teddy bear, a handmade sign reading have you seen me? Was it fixed to the wall above the table? Yes, I thought as I paid for my coffee this morning. Plenty of times. I saw her in the coffee shop every morning, obliviously sipping her chai latte, never for a second suspecting that it might be her last day on earth. I remember the turquoise colored bandana she tied over her mousy brown hair, the black and gray flannel jacket she draped across the back of the chair, the way her skinny jeans were tucked into her fur-lined brown boots. She had a friendly smile and kind eyes, with dimples poked into her round cheeks and a small lip ring in the corner of her mouth that she tongued absently as she scrolled on her phone. I remember the last time I saw her in the shop as clear as if it were yesterday. She glanced up at me while I was retrieving my double espresso order from the counter. I said good morning, but it didn't seem like she heard me. She just looked down at her phone and kept scrolling as if I didn't exist. I dumped a couple packs of sugar into my coffee, then exited the shop and went to go sit in my van, like I did every morning. A few minutes later she climbed into the Subaru Outback parked in the spot next to mine. I smiled again, but she didn't seem to notice. She started her car, backed out of her spot and pulled out of the parking lot, headed for home. And then, just like that, she was gone.
Speaker 5:That evening her face was on the 6 o'clock news with Missing Girl emblazoned under her photo in a garish red font. The anchor explained that she hadn't showed up for work that day, so one of her co-workers had stopped by her apartment to make sure she was okay. She wasn't. Her apartment door was ajar, blood was smeared on the wall and was pooled on the floor. That was all the co-worker needed to see. He retreated from the apartment, dialed 911, then vomited into a flower pot on the patio. That was eight days ago. The police have been searching forever since Now.
Speaker 5:Here I was on the side of the road about to join a search party to help the police look for her. I drained the last of my double espresso, then climbed out of my van, slammed the door and trudged along the side of the road towards the parking lot where the search party was assembling. As I dropped my crumbled espresso cup into the trash can, I passed the WPVI TV news crew taping a segment nearby. I recognized the reporter, a pretty Latina woman named Maria Espinoza. Her breath swirled in the chilly autumn air. As she spoke to the camera, glancing occasionally at the iPhone in her hand to verify a detail of the case, I was enthralled. She was even more beautiful in person than on TV. I paused for a moment to watch her deliver her report. Maria was my favorite TV news reporter.
Speaker 5:Most people spent their time watching the big news channels CNN, fox, msnbc but not me. I preferred the local news. It was more personal, more accessible. I liked that I might recognize the places where they were reporting, like when they found a bunch of tires slashed at the office complex near my house or when a suspected arson destroyed the apartment building where my ex-girlfriend used to live. I'd recognize a street sign here, a building facade there, always with Maria in the foreground reporting on the latest crime that had rocked the area. She'd use phrases like crime wave and escalating violence, always spoken with just the slightest hint of a Hispanic accent that I found completely endearing. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a bit of a crush on her. It was hard not to. I'm sure I wasn't the only one.
Speaker 5:I got to see her in person once before, at the scene of a fiery car wreck where a family of four had been run off the road in a suspected road rage incident. I was actually on camera that time. Well, my van was, but I was driving it rolling slowly past the scene of the accident, watching the rescue squad cut the driver from the wreckage with the jaws of life. After escaping from the traffic caused by the crash, I raced home and turned on the TV just in time to see Maria's report being rebroadcast at the top of the hour. I knew it was silly, but I felt a little famous being on TV like that, even if it was just a few seconds of my nondescript Honda Odyssey creeping by in the background.
Speaker 5:I wondered what it would be like to be really famous, like Maria, how it would feel to be recognized, to be seen. I thought about people coming up to me on the street, tentative but knowing, asking hey, aren't you the guy who? I'd laugh and nod Yep, that's me. I'd offer to take a selfie with them if they wanted. Why not? I'm just a regular guy. I wouldn't let fame go to my head like some people did. I'd be like Maria Recognizable, but approachable. Of course, I had never actually approached Maria. How could I? Where would I start? What would I say? But I assumed that if I did, she would be as friendly and welcoming as she seemed on TV. Heck, maybe she'd even recognize me from somewhere. I could hardly imagine it, maria Espinoza, knowing who I was. How amazing would that be. I don't even know if I could handle it. I might just melt into a puddle right there on the spot With my pulse racing at the thought of meeting Maria.
Speaker 5:I continued past the WPVI TV news truck and joined a group of 20 or so locals who had gathered to search for the missing girl. A tired-looking police captain was speaking to the crowd Alright, folks, we're going to spread out and head in that direction. He pointed into the sparse forest. We're looking for anything that seems out of the ordinary A purse, a shoe, a body, I interjected. I glanced at Maria to see if she had noticed me asking this question. It didn't seem like she had. She was too far away to have heard what I said. The cop frowned A body. He acknowledged Any other questions. A young man in a Philadelphia Eagles jacket spoke up. What do we do if we find something? Most importantly, don't touch it. Just raise your hand and shout here, let us handle the rest.
Speaker 5:With that, the search party fanned out and made their way into the woods. A thin veil of fog rose from the marshlands, diffusing the morning light and filling the air with an eerie spectral glow. Pallid tree trunks emerged from the haze like phantoms, skeletal and wan. The search was quiet, almost mournful. There was no talking, no conversation. Occasional shouts of Christy punctuated the silence as searchers called the missing girl's name. Police cadaver dogs splashed through the muddy groundwater, sniffing the air, intently trying to catch the girl's scent.
Speaker 5:Orienting myself relative to the Cedar Creek picnic area sign, I headed in a rough northeasterly direction, counting my paces as I walked, I didn't bother calling out the girl's name. What was the point? She wasn't going to answer. As I neared 50 paces, I looked back at the WPVI TV news crew. Maria was chatting idly with the cameraman as he captured b-roll footage of the search. Her producer sat in the van's passenger seat tapping away on his cell phone with his thumbs. He glanced up at Maria and said something to her that I couldn't hear. She nodded and lifted a finger, indicating one more minute. They were wrapping up their coverage. I had to hurry.
Speaker 5:I scanned the forest looking for the landmark I had memorized a fallen tree beside a black pool of liquid mud. Finally, I spotted it. As I approached, I saw the turquoise-colored bandana I had stuffed into a knot hole in the trunk. I picked up a gnarled branch then plunged it deep into the muck until I felt it catch on. Something soft.
Speaker 5:A ghostly form began rising from the depths. Long brown hair fanned out across the murky water. A black and gray flannel jacket bloomed on the surface. I turned to look at Maria, as if sensing my gaze. Her eyes flitted in my direction. She smiled. I felt a surge of joy. She had noticed me, I had been seen. I imagined again what it would be like to be on TV, to be known for something, to be a somebody instead of a nobody. I imagined being close to Maria, feeling her hand on my arm as she interviewed me about how I had found the girl, about how it felt to be a hero me on TV, me with Maria Espinoza, me a hero. I took one last look at the girl's bloated corpse floating face down in the water, then lifted my hand and shouted here.
Speaker 1:Tell us Alan.
Speaker 2:This was the first time in I don't know I think the entire podcast stories section, whatever this is called lunatics library, that's it where, after, as soon as the story ended, I just went holy fuck.
Speaker 2:I did not see the twist coming. Also, this this is one of the reasons why I absolutely love audiobooks over print media is For certain circumstances. You know, everything has its time and place, Right, but in this case, you know, just listening to the story, I wasn't like watching a scroll bar. I had no idea when it was going to end. When you're reading something, you can see when the pages are. You know when you're running out of pages in the book. I had no idea when the story is going to end. It ended super abruptly with a super hard twist.
Speaker 1:Yeah.
Speaker 2:It's like, oh, you done it, hot dang. Yeah, a really good twist it was. And then, and then, yeah, it's just like the first story. You just take a real brief moment to just like reflect and like, oh, of course it was so obvious, all the little nuggets that were dropped, all throughout, of course, but I didn't see it coming yeah I, I'm, I'm the.
Speaker 2:I am generally the target audience for movies with a twist yeah uh, it's so many times I've been watching movies with friends and I'm like, wow, that, what a twist. And they're like, really, you didn't, you didn't see that coming, you, you didn't know this was gonna happen, from a mile away, even when we were watching red, white and royal blue.
Speaker 5:I I didn't see the twist that I can't give it away.
Speaker 2:Uh, but wow, what? So? It was great. It was great, I. I love twists and movies. I love twists and stories. And when they just like wrap up the whole thing with a nice little bow and then make it cyclical because you go back and do the story again, yeah, even better.
Speaker 1:Yeah, this is another one that's really good on the re-listen. As I was editing it, I was like damn, this has so many little hints and tidbits throughout. So, again, another one that's really great on the re-listen. Both of the writers did such a great job. But I want to tell you guys a little bit about Warren.
Speaker 1:So the story was written by our friend, warren Benedetto, who was also featured along with Mariska on our Ocean Horror episodes. This story was originally published in Fable, an anthology of horror, suspense and the supernatural, by Ariella Leo in November of 2023. So Warren is a writer of dark fiction. He's an award-winning author. He's published over 250 stories. His work has appeared in many, many, many publications and has also appeared on the no Sleep podcast, tales to Terrify and Chilling Tales for Dark Nights. And Warren also works on video games and he holds over 50 patents for various types of gaming technology. So he's a double threat. You can visit warrenbenedettocom or follow him at warrenbenedetto on Twitter and Instagram.
Speaker 1:Of course, we will link everything. And I want to take a little second to call out our friend, mike Massera. Mike and Lisa have both narrated for us on the podcast before. I thought they both did excellent jobs and Mike is just such a pro voice actor. I think he always kills it and bring something really fun to the story. Mike is also a double threat, just like Warren, because he is part of a very, very good band called Beach Therapy. I highly recommend listening to the song Parking Lots. That's all you need to get thoroughly addicted to them and want to know more. But we'll link everything in the description so you can find all of our very talented friends.
Speaker 2:I think both Mike and Lisa knocked this one out of the park. We usually are able to get them at the same time, just because how schedules work out.
Speaker 1:And they're buddies.
Speaker 2:Yes them. Knowing each other certainly helps coordinating schedules. However, I just also want to point out that both Mike and lisa are also incredible picture actors.
Speaker 1:True, we had the privilege of working with lisa as an actor on a recent short, which we aren't saying too much about but it's coming really soon, yep, and there's a little, and we are so excited for something upcoming with mike, and that's all we can say at this point yeah, and I will say mike helped out with the other short, like they've just been great collaborators on the podcast and with short films and across feature films. So we're really glad to know them, really really glad to know warren and mariska as well, because we have now relied on their talents for multiple series. Thank you all so much.
Speaker 1:This Hitchcock series, I will say like the real truth of it, is that I'm such a Hitchcock fan. I grew up in a very pro Hitchcock household. I think of Hitchcock as a huge part of my film education, if you will. I grew up on these films. I think it's a big reason why I'm really into horror and thrillers, and so it was a huge bummer to learn about some of the really really shitty things that Hitchcock did during the research of this, and I think it's also really interesting that it's not talked about at least in my awareness, much broadly enough that it had ever come to my radar before. So I just want to say the truth is that that really sucks and that's just something that we all have to deal with. You know, it's just part of life. But anyway, we're going to put a pin in the Hitchcock series and we are going to come back.
Speaker 1:October is not over yet. We have a really spooky and, in my opinion, incredibly relevant October Halloween topic one that Alan cannot dispute its relevance to Halloween and we're also taking a really special trip, before those episodes are recorded, to do some really cool hands-on research, so I can't be more excited. I'm sure if you follow us on Instagram, you'll see a lot about that very soon, but thank you, guys, so much for being here. It's always the most fun to talk to you this month, alan. Is there anything else you want to say about Hitchcock? In conclusion?
Speaker 2:Not really. I feel like we've said everything that needs to be said about Hitchcock in this context, so why don't we end it here?
Speaker 1:Sounds great.
Speaker 2:Bye in these, this context, so why don't we end it here? Sounds great, bye.
