Lunatics Radio Hour
The history of horror and the horror of history.
Lunatics Radio Hour
Episode 151 - Campfire Tales #4
Abby is thrilled to introduce my new co-host for Campfire Tales in 2025, Alex Goleman. And thrilled to announce that we will be leaning way more into Campfire Tales this year. Sit back, pretend you're siting around a campfire and prepare to be spooked.
Treatment of The All Consuming Client was written by Joelle Killian and preformed by Denali Bartell. Follow @Joelle_Killian on IG.
Deep Within was written by Travis Mushanski and preformed by Peter Papazoglou. Follow @TravisMushanski on social media.
Abandoned Sweets was written by Josh Clark and preformed by Michael Crosa. Follow josh_of_clark on Instagram. And check out the Podnooga podcast network for more from Michael.
As always, thanks for supporting this podcast and the incredibly talented writers and narrators that we are lucky enough to work with.
Get Lunatics Merch here. Join the discussion on Discord. 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 Branker sitting here with Alex Goldman.
Speaker 2:Hi everyone.
Speaker 1:Hi, alex, we're so excited to have you here today.
Speaker 2:Oh, I'm excited to be here today.
Speaker 1:If you're a Patreon, you might be a tad more familiar with Alex because he's been on some episodes of Horror Movie Club. But we're very excited because this year he is going to be helping us out on Lunatics Radio Hour with our Campfire Tales series and we're leading a bit more into Campfire Tales this year. I'm really excited. We've gotten so many really amazing story submissions and so we thought we needed to make a little bit more space on the podcast for just general themed story episodes, and that's what this is.
Speaker 2:And look, I'm an avid campfire attendee, so I am very excited to hear some of the stories that Abby's prepared for all of us.
Speaker 1:He's a pro. Okay, so without further ado, we have three very spooky stories to get into today. Again, if you're new to this series, the point is that we all sort of hypothetically, metaphorically, gather around the campfire, cozy up and listen to three very spooky, haunting horror stories.
Speaker 1:I'm also really excited because this episode features three brand new writers to the Lunatics Radio Hour podcast which is really fulfilling to me, because we want to be able to feature a huge variety of work from different people, and so I'm really thrilled that we're able to do that today. So let's get into the first story.
Speaker 4:Maddie white-knuckled the worn arms of the chair, stifling a yawn. As her client monologued about his engineering firm's HR policies, the wall clock ticked. Only two minutes had passed since she'd last checked. Either Nolan was feeding off her life essence or she was the most incompetent therapist on the planet. She rolled her shoulders, the gravel under her scapula clicking and popping, then chugged the dregs of her lukewarm vanilla latte. Nolan, maybe we can come back to the concerns your boss mentioned in your referral to our clinic. He fixed his vacant blue eyes on her. As I told my lawyer, the referral form 2139 does not provide space to dispute the manager's comments, a discriminatory process which I intend on addressing. Fail Maddie's gaze locked on the generic therapy office photo of a lotus flower above his head, as her consciousness, detached from her body, floating away like a balloon. Not enough caffeine in the world could keep her anchored. I'm listening for the emotion behind his wall of words'. Maddy confessed two days later in supervision, her head throbbing with the onset of a migraine. "'but I'm struggling to get through to him and I leave our sessions feeling drained and depleted'. She also hadn't heard half of what Nolan had said last time, which might be next-level unprofessional. "'it sounds like he's regressed to an oral sadistic state of infantile development.
Speaker 4:Her clinical supervisor peered over the tortoiseshell glasses sliding down her nose. So it's only a matter of time till he projects the role of his persecutor onto you and retaliates. But surviving his attempts to consume you will help him internalize the consistency absent from his childhood. Maddie scribbled these incantations in her notebook Survive destruction, earn his trust. But the spell of her supervisor's brilliance evaporated by the time she re-read them before Nolan's next session, rendering these suggestions incomprehensible. What therapeutic sorcery would demonstrate her supportive presence, that she was here for him? Clueless, she tossed the notes into her desk drawer. Yes, I see she nodded along to Nolan's stories like a bobblehead, scrunching her eyebrows in a simulacrum of sympathy. But I'm curious how you felt about your performance improvement plan being forced to speak with a therapist who was willfully ignorant of our annual review process as a form of harassment which I have documented in my most recent grievance to the board. His jaw moved mechanically, his stony face unchanging, as Maddie sensed herself being drained by dozens of hungry little mouths, each of them sucking her vitality through a straw. Maybe she was just having a hypoglycemic moment. Breathing deeply, she clutched her thighs, willing herself to stay present. Her elbow skin flaked a honeycomb-patterned rash spreading over her forearms. Nolan, however, looked more substantial and solid, well-fed, stumbling to her desk afterwards. Her joints ached and bones creaked like she'd aged a decade in the last hour.
Speaker 4:She crawled home from work pale with shadowed half-moons carved beneath her eyes and called her doctor's office. From a puddle of Maddie-shaped goo on the floor, maddie's doctor flipped through her chart during their appointment, concern flickering across her face. Did you donate a lot of blood recently? Maddie shook her head, clutching the paper gown tight. Why? Your hemoglobin is very low. Her doctor tapped one manicured nail at the normal ranges on her laps. Then Maddie's scores You're acutely anemic right now, yikes. Then Maddie scores You're acutely anemic right now, yikes.
Speaker 4:Maddie's eyes watered, overpowered by the antiseptic stink of the office. So what now? I'm afraid you'll need to be hospitalized. If you don't get your iron stores up, let's book you for an infusion on Tuesday. Her doctor handed her a referral slip. In the meantime, go eat a steak dinner tonight. Okay, I don't know what it is about him.
Speaker 4:Maddie told her colleagues at happy hour that evening. I've had angry clients scream at me, needy clients stalk me and paranoid clients accuse me of manipulating their dreams, but I'm not sure I can survive this one. She stared down at the hunk of meat on her plate, charred on the outside with an oozing pig center. What am I doing wrong? Try visualizing an energy shield for psychic protection. Her co-worker nearly knocked over her margarita as she waved her arms in a circle, dispersing amber patchouli everywhere. Smudge the room before he arrives, then open the windows after to release the toxins. Maddy suppressed a grimace. So predictable, but maybe it was worth a try this time.
Speaker 4:Maddy imagined a translucent white bubble of light surrounding her body as she fetched Nolan from the waiting room, his blonde hair neatly parted and his shoes shining. Did his skin have a rosy glow now? She shut the office door with a soft click. The white noise machine roaring outside the hallway. Welcome, she began. Where would you like to start? Hello, maddie.
Speaker 4:He perched on the couch across from her mouth in a smug twist. You don't look so well today, oh. She tugged at her shirt sleeves trying to cover her flaky elbows. The fading rash Interesting. Tell me more about that. Since when did Nolan notice her existence? But maybe her therapeutic mask was slipping, or maybe he was the only one who could see what was really happening to her. Your supervisor will be very displeased with your unprofessional comportment, maddie. His eyes glittered with parasitic hunger. As I clearly stated in my all-staff memo about proper office attire Jesus, not this again.
Speaker 4:Maddie felt herself collapsing, then refocused her attention, breathing sunbeams into her bubble, psychic protection check. And then Nolan launched into a 20-minute rant about the line changes in the employee handbook that shattered her defenses, bones dissolving with each microscopic detail. He inflated, engorged, like a tick on her misery. She reached for her bubble, struggled to cling to her corporeal form, but those hungry mouths echoing his invocations, siphoned her essence, heart shuddering in her chest like the tick of the wall clock. The floor dropped out from under her, the white noise faded as she was sucked into a shivering void, silent and empty. All that remained were his words, multiplying, expanding into infinity. Maddie wasn't here for him, because she wasn't anywhere anymore.
Speaker 2:Okay, alex, what did you think? Wow, is there anything more relatable than feeling that way after a day at the office? I mean, I certainly listening to that story. I was brought immediately back to you know, just a horrible day at the office, crawling back into my bed and just feeling who I'm safe.
Speaker 1:And I love taking something like that that feels on that level so relatable and writing about it in a way that feels like a horror.
Speaker 2:Oh, absolutely.
Speaker 1:Yeah, I think that's such a fun way to explore something like that that we all get.
Speaker 2:I think it's a. It's certainly a fun way to address the feelings that all of us feel, to actually put a physical, you know villain in the story and be able to say no, it's not just being a human and feeling tired after a day of work, it's actually the result of, you know, someone sucking actual energy out of us.
Speaker 1:Yeah, it's very like modern day people who quote, unquote practice being vampires, right, but the idea is that they believe in, like this exchange of energy. That was the thing that came to mind for me. Like this exchange of essence, or like this predatory stealing of essence or lifeblood or whatever.
Speaker 2:It totally reminds me of you watch the TV show what we Do in the Shadows.
Speaker 1:I've seen parts of it, but go ahead.
Speaker 2:Okay, there's a character called Colin Robinson who is an energy vampire who essentially bores his potential victims to essentially death, to sort of draw on their energy and feed off it.
Speaker 1:Oh, that is perfect.
Speaker 2:Yeah, it reminded me exactly of that it. Oh, that is perfect. Remind me exactly of that character.
Speaker 1:So, because this is the first time we are featuring the writing of Joelle, I want to tell you a little bit about her. Joelle Killian is a queer Canadian living in San Francisco whose fiction has appeared in Fusion, fragment, mythaxis and Cosmic Horror Monthly. One of her doppelgangers is a psychologist writing about psychedelic therapy. Okay, another was in an undead dance troupe Very intriguing.
Speaker 2:Wow, I need to know more. Very cool.
Speaker 1:And, of course, I'm going to leave all of the ways that you can follow all of the writers and narrators today in the description of this podcast. So please do check that out, and I encourage everyone to kind of follow along with some of these creators and artists and we can stay tuned as they create and write more. I also want to say that not only was this story incredibly well written and very, very fun to read, I thought the narration by our dear friend Denali at this point was so lovely.
Speaker 2:Absolutely. It really brought out the emotion I feel in the story. You could certainly feel at times when the energy was beginning to drain from our lead character.
Speaker 1:Yes, yeah, I think Denali has such a rich, beautiful voice and very, very much appreciate their collaborating with us on Campfire Tales this year. Okay, so let's get into the next story. I do want to say quick content warning on this next story before we roll the tape. It's very body horror, heavy, I would say A bit gory. So if that's something that's not your scene also a lot of medical references then just fast forward a few minutes.
Speaker 3:Deep within. Read by Travis Buschansky. Read by Peter Mavazaglou. Red 5 meter.
Speaker 5:Babazaglue. A heavy fog pinned Sarah down to the cold surface of the stainless steel operating table. She flailed, fighting to free herself of bonds. She couldn't feel, but her body refused to respond. Bright white light flooded her senses, making it impossible to open her eyes. Machinery beeped and whirled in the brightness and the murmur of muffled words fluttered just out of her comprehension. While she wavered in the empty white space, an intrusive aroma of orange antiseptic enveloped her, followed by a peculiar tug at her stomach, doctor, I think, the anesthesia's wearing off. She panicked when a cold numbness peeled open her stomach, stretching the skin beyond its breaking point. Her consciousness withdrew deep into her physical being, a secret, hidden place where life didn't exist. Nonsense. Continue with the procedure. Something slipped into her stomach cavity, a feeling she could only sense.
Speaker 5:Through an odd pressure, it dug through her intestines like a soothsayer, searching for a glimpse of the future. She moaned, her head swam through a wave of pain and the world went black. Heart rate is escalating. Sarah flailed to the surface of an inky void and grasped at consciousness. Her eyes shoot open, blurry and tear-filled, to focus on a figure in green scrubs towering over her, examining her eviscerated torso through magnification goggles With an exaggerated sigh. He jammed his fingers into her jugular, staring at his watch, increase propofol and continue to monitor heart rate. While he eclipsed the light hovering above her, sarah noticed blood spattered across his chest. She wanted to scream but couldn't force her lungs to cooperate. A wave of nausea washed over her and the darkness inched its way back into her vision. Sarah's world turned grayscale and a slow-motion strobe light accentuated a series of terrifying vignettes.
Speaker 5:Blackness the surgeon studied metal rib separators in the operating light. Blackness His magnified eyes bulging and his arms disappeared into her stomach cavity. Blackness A scalpel lingered over her stomach, the blade glistening crimson in the light. Blackness Strands of bloody sinews stretched from her stomach. The blade glistening crimson in the light. Blackness Strands of bloody sinews stretched from her stomach into the light, threatening to snap. Blackness the doctor's blood-stained face enveloped Sarah's reality. His dilated pupils were surrounded by broken blood vessels. Blackness A bulbous clot of tissue the size of a human brain is held towards the light. An offering to the dark gods. Blackness A clamor of surgical instruments broke through the nothingness.
Speaker 5:Crimson light chased the darkness away and Sarah opened her eyes to see the operating light swaying on loose electrical wires. She took short, quick breaths and watched twisted shadows dance through blood-stained light. The anesthesia loosened its grip and a groan gurgled past her lips. She tried to block the light with her arm, but she still felt as if she were trapped beneath a weighted blanket of bricks. A shuffle of feet and a gurgle pulled her gaze to her feet, where the surgeon's body crumpled onto her lower extremities. He stared up at her with red, bulged-out eyeballs, desperate for help she could not provide. His hands clawed at her bare legs, leaving scratches and gouges across her bare flesh. She couldn't feel. She cringed into herself and managed to force her shoulders into the operating table.
Speaker 5:In her semi-anesthetized state, she's forced to watch him claw at a red mass undulating at his throat. Thin tendrils of muscular flesh wrap themselves around the surgeon's hands and pin them to the table with a bone-crunching thud. Bones cracked and sockets popped. His body went limp and a milky haze glossed over his eyes. His defeated body exhaled a series of shallow wheezes. The clot around his neck pulsed and extended a tentacle along the back of his green dressing gown, stretching and solidifying into an 18-inch dagger. The cyclopean point hovered above the base of the surgeon's spinal column, circling its prey until it plunged into his flesh with deadly accuracy.
Speaker 5:A squeal escaped Sarah's lips and she slammed her eyes closed. Everything was still for a blissful minute before she felt the slippery movement of the thing's tendrils. It explored her body, tasting each ripple of goose flesh, before it shifted its weight off the dead man. Her teeth clattered and her muscles clenched, mimicking a state of rigor mortis. With a wet thwack, the clot forced the corpse off of her legs and onto the floor with a heavy thud. This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.
Speaker 5:Sarah felt the sticky smack of a tendril on her leg and the weight of the bulbous mass being dragged behind it. She cracked open her eyes and glanced out at her feet, where the gelatinous gory thing inched its way toward her upper torso. She could feel something of a heartbeat in the mass beating rapidly while radiating an intense heat. Tears flowed down Sarah's cheeks and she tried in vain to wiggle away from the thing crawling up her paralyzed body. There was a crackle in her chest and the tension that held her lungs in place was suddenly gone, giving her the room to take a deep breath and wail in agony. Panic and fear overtook her, but just before the blackness of the void could reclaim her, she'd felt the tendrils pull the massive clot back into her carved-open abdomen.
Speaker 5:Sarah awoke hours later to a groggy hangover. Her system, free of the nauseating anesthesia, ached and burned. She ran a shaky hand over her face and braced herself on an elbow. Agony flared in her stomach and adrenaline shot through her system. She tore at her gown and stared with horror at an inflamed line running from her pelvis to her sternum. The flesh the surgeon had sliced open wasn't stitched or stapled shut, but rather it was held firmly closed from the inside.
Speaker 1:Whew.
Speaker 2:Wow.
Speaker 1:Intense.
Speaker 2:That had me at the edge of my seat, for sure.
Speaker 1:Yes, okay, I have to admit medical and like body horror stuff can be something I'm very squeamish about same absolutely this story was so, so good, despite being like a, like you know, hiding behind my fingers metaphorically, while I was reading it yeah, I definitely am glad that we are listening to this story.
Speaker 2:I think watching it would be a whole other experience too, and let me tell you, I was, as I said before, I was at the edge of my seat and I thought the ending was awesome. I really felt that he truly found a way to end it. That was totally horrifying and left a nice punctuation mark on it.
Speaker 1:Yes, I love the final line.
Speaker 2:Yeah, definitely it doesn't just leave us hanging.
Speaker 1:It tells us yeah, I love that. Again. I'm so excited because this is the first time that we're featuring Travis's work on the podcast. So let me tell you a little bit about Travis. He graduated from the University of Virginia's BA English program. When he isn't basking in the glow of a word processor, he is a professional brewer, crafting some of the best craft beer in Canada. He finds solace in a pint of English Mild at the end of the day and occasionally finds himself writing short fiction, exploring the nightmares and horrors hiding just out of sight. Travis's debut novel, man in the Purple Coat, will be available early this year from Grendel Press and of course, I hope Travis will let us know so that we can pass it along to all of you.
Speaker 1:His short fiction has also been featured in an anthology series from Erie River Publishing, hellbound Books and Gravestone Press. I also just love all of the different names of the publications that these horror writers have been featured in Absolutely. Of course, all of this is possible because of the support of his wonderful wife, janelle, and beautiful daughter Emma. Yay Well, travis, we really love your story.
Speaker 2:Yeah, that was awesome. Thank you, Travis.
Speaker 1:And that was narrated for us by our dear friend Peter Papazoglou.
Speaker 2:Wow, he did a great job. The tone he really brought out in the story you could just tell.
Speaker 1:I mean, he really he had a good voice for it absolutely the one thing that I really love about campfire tales in this series is that, just by nature, these are not themed right. They're not like around a specific topic, which is what we do on a lot of the other episodes, and I love the juxtaposition of like kicking things off with like an energy vampire and then finding ourselves in like middle of a horrifying body cosmic horror surgery you know it's a great variety what a journey and how cool that.
Speaker 2:Um, these are new writers too that are new to this not new to writing, but new to this podcast.
Speaker 1:Yeah, yeah, new, new, uh, fresh meat for everyone to go check out exactly and, of course, travis's social handles will be linked in the description of this podcast. So stay close to his work and keep an eye out for his upcoming novel. But, alex, we have one more story to get to today.
Speaker 2:All right, let's do it.
Speaker 1:And I will say this one I would call the cherry on top.
Speaker 3:Abandoned sweets. Read by Josh Clark. Read by Michael Grosa.
Speaker 6:Gloria has cupcakes waiting for you. Join us for Cupcake Thursdays and get one free with any purchase. The paint of the slogan was not as vibrant as it once had been, but legible on the food establishment Glorious Cupcakes, even though it closed months ago. The rest of the windows were boarded up with splintered wood planks. I'd only dare touch with a pair of gloves. Hector elbowed me Twenty bucks for you to knock on the door. Pfft, there's no way. He kicked a piece of asphalt into the cracked parking lot.
Speaker 6:The building wasn't the only thing falling into disrepair. There were potholes abound, paired with fading parking lines, a good-sized lot to be left barren. No other businesses occupied the corner, shocking with what appeared to be prime real estate, or not, since it drove glorious cupcakes right out of business. Perfect space for donuts, if you dared get in the vicinity of the place. Don't be such a wuss. I huffed. Why don't you do it then? That's not how a dare works, colin. You don't get to throw what I wanted you to do back at me. I kept walking down the sidewalk, picking up my pace, ready to get the hell out of here. Making the mistake of peering over my shoulder. Hector shuffled his feet, rivaling that of a tortoise, what he mouthed. Where did he come off?
Speaker 6:I didn't care if he came up with the idea to dare me first. No one in their right mind would go up to that business. I hadn't stepped foot inside while it was open. I sure wasn't going to do that. Now that they weren't, I flipped him off and stopped by the nearby fire hydrant. You seriously won't go up for 20 bucks. All I have to do is walk to the front door.
Speaker 6:Hector's mouth gaped. I'm not giving you anything to do, only that. Nothing brave there. You need to open the door or at the very least pull on it. Yeah right, you just said I needed to knock on it. He sneered. That offer is long gone. Come on, it's still easy money.
Speaker 6:Again, I wanted to tell him to do it, if it was so easy. One thing, to force things on someone else, different matter. When you had to do it yourself. He was scared, shitless, like I was. From the thought At least I thought he was. His lips snaked into a hideous grin. He pulled his phone out and pointed it at me.
Speaker 6:Fine, let's see what everyone thinks about how you wouldn't dare try opening the door of an abandoned sweet shop, because Colin Ashford is one big-ass wuss. I swiped for his phone. Would you turn that thing off? He moved it out of my reach. Go try the door. Could you turn that thing off? He moved it out of my reach. Go try the door. This wasn't some idle threat. He'd post it. His following, unfortunately not only people from school, but one he'd amassed through his social content. I'm not going to ask again Turn it off. He shook his head. Either tell everyone you don't have the balls to try the door or go do it.
Speaker 6:I flat out knew I wasn't the only one in this town that wouldn't go anywhere near it. I'd seen enough videos of people recording it from across the street because they didn't want to get too close. Yet I'm the one who had Hector bullying me into doing it. Fine, I said You're deleting this video though. Uh huh yeah. I didn't have to look over my shoulder to know he'd done no such thing. Nor was there an intention to. I was trapped. Either way, it was getting posted. The option before me Reduce to the taunts he'd shared with his audience or disprove them. I gulped. As I neared the boarded-up doors, I shook my shoulders and took a deep breath. It was fine, totally fine.
Speaker 3:The door would be locked, and that was the end of it.
Speaker 6:Hector could stop recording and I'd get some money out of it For way more than a twenty. He didn't get to embarrass me in front of his audience for free, no way. My hands shook as I reached for the door handle. It was like every other black curved door handle, nothing scary about that, except the others didn't belong to an abandoned businesses. A cold shiver went up my spine as the door didn't resist to my yank on the handle. It opened.
Speaker 3:Go in.
Speaker 6:Hector said I twisted around. He was a comfortable distance away. Forget it. I turned back towards the open door. White and pink icing oozed out of the doorway. I stepped back as it crept towards me. While there was a low possibility of it burning me, I treated it as if it were lava and gave it a generous amount of buffer. It started to flow faster. I tripped over myself as I tried stepping away backwards.
Speaker 6:The icing rushed against me, already covering my shoes and soaking the butt of my pants. With my hands covered, I went to pull one away. It was stuck. My legs the same. I was adhered to the concrete by the thick substance, the shit that got stuck in your teeth, gumming your mouth shut, but on a larger scale, twisting my head. Hector watched from a distance. Help me, I didn't care how panicked I sounded Enough. He'd never let me live it down. If such an opportunity even existed, he'd need a jackhammer to get through this crud. Hector stared for a moment, then took one step forward and froze, the icing raced towards him. He gave one last look and went back down the sidewalk the same way we'd come.
Speaker 3:Coward.
Speaker 6:I yelled after him. Part of me didn't blame my so-called friend. Yet were our positions reversed? I would have tried to save his stupid ass. Easier said than done. Perhaps I'd leave him to sink into this sugary paste too. Out from the doorway of Gloria's cupcakes ebbed a Clydesdale-sized cupcake on the river of goop. Strings of icing dripped from its top. It progressed forward like a massive snail excreting slime. I'd entered into some nightmare, as sprinkled eyes peered at me and razor-sharp teeth glistened from its open maw. The creature roared and wet, partially digested cake chunks hit my face along with its spittle. The mouth widened as it glided towards me.
Speaker 1:What a finale.
Speaker 2:Wow, nothing scarier than a cupcake's maw coming towards you, I think.
Speaker 1:Truly the juxtaposition of something that's meant to be sweet, obviously, and a horrifying creature.
Speaker 2:Yeah, a terrible nightmare of mine is sweets doing to me what I like to do to them.
Speaker 1:I think I mean I also just like, can't get over the stickiness.
Speaker 2:Oh yeah, the aftermath.
Speaker 1:You know just like.
Speaker 2:I feel like I felt it on my fingers, like as I was listening to it. I knew the exact feeling. Oh yeah, yeah, I love that story. I think it on my fingers like as I was listening to it. I knew the exact feeling.
Speaker 1:Oh yeah, yeah, I love that story. I think it's super fun and I love when writers can play with horror again in like a space where you don't expect it and to do something surprising and different and fun, and I think that story is very much that very well written, very fun, very unexpected.
Speaker 2:Yeah, and like you said before, this third story was completely different than the other two. It's very cool that there's so many types of horror that we can broadcast on this podcast.
Speaker 1:Yeah, absolutely Okay. So this story was written by Josh Clark. Josh is a writer, bookseller and graphic designer. He's a writer of genre fiction for both adults and young adults. His short fiction has been published by Pike's Peak Writers, black Hair Press, shacklebound Books and more and again. I will, of course, leave all of the links to follow Josh in the description of this podcast. He also has a story in the anthology Cursed Cooking that was released in November 2024, which sounds very fun.
Speaker 2:Oh yeah, If you have a craving for something more that Josh written.
Speaker 1:That's right. Check out Cursed Cooking. And our very dear friend of the podcast, michael Krosa, narrated this story. Michael is just the epitome of a fun person and when I read this story without much thought at all, I knew that it had to be narrated by Michael. Right, he did a very lovely job bringing it to life in a Michael Krosa-esque way. Michael also runs the PodNuga podcast network out of Chattanooga, tennessee. We will link his network and all the information about it, but he's doing really great things, as always, to make a community for podcasters down in Chattanooga. Well, alex, thank you so much for being here.
Speaker 2:It was so fun to have you to talk to you about this so fun. It was absolutely my pleasure. I'm so glad to be included in this series. This was an awesome episode.
Speaker 1:Amazing. Well, campfire Tales again. Like I said, we are going to revisit it a bit more often this year than we have in previous years, which I'm really excited about. If you are a writer and you want to submit to the Lunatics Radio Hour podcast, you can head to our website, lunaticsprojectcom, click on submit and that will tell you exactly the stories and the topics and things that we're looking for right now, and there's a form to submit on that page. So that's the best way to do it. Email is not the best way anymore. So head to lunaticsprojectcom and hit submit, and we hope that you do, as always. Thank you all so much for being here. We are very, very excited to get into some of the topics as the weather gets a little bit warmer and spring is around the corner. Some very exciting things to come on Lunatics Radio Hour. Stay well, stay spooky, and we'll talk to you soon. Bye.
Speaker 6:Bye.
