October 22, 2025 • 10 mins
Halloween is getting closer and it's time to start stories about witches and monsters! This delicious story about a witch's revenge against a cocky drunk man will have you rooting for the creepy, hungry, giant monster that is after him. After the witch shrinks him down to size and flushes him into the rat sewers that is.
Press play and listen. This story has lot of crunch to it and a big bite! :)
Thank you for enjoying my podcast! Take a listen to the other podcast at Candlelight Storyworks
Midnight Scares - Fall Asleep to Spooky Storiesl
Candlight Classics - Classic Short Stories to Help You Sleep
Candlelight Romance - Fall Asleep While Falling In Love
True Crime by Candlelight - Drift Off to Dark Mysteries
Find them all on your favorite podcast right here:
https://linktr.ee/candlelightstoryworks
If you are tired of commercials, you can always follow me on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/candlelightstoryworks
I am also writing a few horror and gothic romance books. If you're intrested, please follow me on my other Patreon at
http://www.patreon.com/sarahmarshalking
**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.
Press play and listen. This story has lot of crunch to it and a big bite! :)
Thank you for enjoying my podcast! Take a listen to the other podcast at Candlelight Storyworks
Midnight Scares - Fall Asleep to Spooky Storiesl
Candlight Classics - Classic Short Stories to Help You Sleep
Candlelight Romance - Fall Asleep While Falling In Love
True Crime by Candlelight - Drift Off to Dark Mysteries
Find them all on your favorite podcast right here:
https://linktr.ee/candlelightstoryworks
If you are tired of commercials, you can always follow me on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/candlelightstoryworks
I am also writing a few horror and gothic romance books. If you're intrested, please follow me on my other Patreon at
http://www.patreon.com/sarahmarshalking
**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
I recently went to visit some relatives in the old World,
and they were talking about the people who have been
disappearing around here lately, and there is no rhyme or
reason as to where they go. When I went to
pick up some coffee at the old coffee shop, I
overheard someone talking about how his nineteenth great grandfather had
(00:25):
disappeared from the area and about the rat problem. Instead
of telling me what was going on, he went into story,
and this is what he told. In the shadowed alleys
of grim Holt, where cobblestones glistened with the residue of
forgotten rains, lived Maris, a witch with eyes like storm
(00:46):
clouds and a temper to match. Her small shop, tucked
between a butcher's and a pawnbroker's, brimmed with jars of
toad eyes, dried herbs and curses bottled in murky vials.
The bwnsfolk whispered about her, but few dared cross her path,
except for Tom, a loud mouthed tanner with a laugh
(01:08):
like a donkey's bray. Tom, broad shouldered and reeking of
leather and Ale, had a habit of mocking Mariss whenever
he passed her. Shop. Oh a witch, he'd bellow, his
voice carrying to the market square, still brewing potions to
scare children? Or is that just your face? His cronies
(01:28):
would guffaw, slapping their knees, while Maris's fingers twitched at
her sides. She never responded, not with words. Her magic
was her answer, and she was patient. One fog choked evening,
Tom pushed too far. He swaggered into her shop, his
boots tracking mud across her rue etched floor. Cast me
(01:51):
a love spell, hag, he slurred, leaning over her counter.
Make the bar made fancy me, or I'll tell the
whole town you're a fraud. He laughed, a wet, mocking sound,
and knocked over a jar of newte tails. The glass shattered,
and Maris's eyes narrowed to slits. You'll regret that, she said,
(02:13):
her voice low, like the hiss of a kettle about
to boil. Tom laughed harder, spitting flecks of ale. Regret
you're all smoke and no fire, which Maris smiled, A thin,
dangerous thing. She reached beneath her counter, fingers brushing a
grim wire bound in black scales. Let's see how you
(02:34):
laugh in the sewers, She whispered. She muttered words that
twisted the air, syllables sharp as thorns, heavy with intent.
A sickly green light coiled from her hands. Rapping Tom
like a snake, He froze, his laugh, choking off as
his body shrank, limbs folding inward, skin glistening unnaturally. In seconds,
(02:56):
he was no taller than a rat, his clothes a
heap on the floor, his tiny eyes wide with panic,
Maris scooped him up, his squeaks pitiful against her iron grip.
She carried him to the back of her shop, where
a rusted toilet squatted in a corner, a relic from
when the building had been a tavern. You mocked my craft,
(03:19):
she said, dangling him over the bowl. Now swim in
your folly. With a flick, she dropped him into the water.
His tiny arms flailed, his squeaks drowned by the gurgle.
As she flushed, the pipes groaned, and Tom vanished in
a swirl of dark water. Marius dusted her hands and
(03:41):
returned to her counter, expecting that to be the end
of Tom the Tanner. But magic is a fickle thing,
and the sewers beneath Grimholt were no ordinary place. Tom,
still alive, tumbled through the pipes, his shrunken body battered
by currents of filth. The spell hadn't just made him small,
(04:02):
It had toughened him, like leather cured in his own
tanning vats. He splashed into a cavernous sewer chamber, landing
on a ledge slick with moss and worse. Coughing, He
scrambled to his feet, no bigger than a mouse, his
clothes gone, his body shivering in the damp. The air
(04:23):
stank of rot, and distant drips echoed like a heartbeat.
He was alive, but not for long. If he stayed still,
a skittering sound froze him. Eyes glinted in the dark, red, unblinking,
the size of coins rats. Not ordinary rats, but beasts
(04:44):
swollen by the magic that seeped into grim Hoolt's underbelly
from decades of spilled spells. They were as big as dogs,
their fur matted with grime, their teeth like jagged knives.
Tom screamed a high pitched squeak as the first rat lunged.
He ran, his tiny legs pumping across the slick stone.
(05:04):
The rats followed, their claws scraping, their squeals a chorus
of hunger. The sewer was a maze of tunnels, each
one darker than the last, lit only by faint phosphorescent fungi.
Tom darted through cracks, slid under rusted grates, and leaped
over puddles that smelt of death. The rats were relentless,
(05:25):
their noses twitching tracking his scent. One snapped at his heel,
tearing a strip of skin. He yelped, blood trailing, but
kept running, driven by the primal need to survive. He
found a narrow pipe, barely wide enough for his shrunken frame,
and squeezed inside. The rats clawed at the entrance, their
(05:46):
teeth gnashing, but they couldn't fit. Tom panted, his heart
hammering he was safe for now. The pipe led upward
toward a faint light. He climbed, his hands, slipping on
the slimy walls, driven by the thought of escape. If
he could reach the surface, he could find Maris, beg
(06:07):
for mercy, or at least die in the open air.
The pipe opened into a wider chamber, this one lined
with broken crates and bones, human animal, impossible to tell
the light came from a grate above, too high to reach.
Tom's hope flickered, then died as a new sound filled
(06:28):
the air, a deep guttural chittering. From the shadows, emerged
the largest rat yet, a monstrosity the size of a boar.
Its fur was patchy, its eyes milky, and its mouth
dripped with something thicker than saliva. It was the king
of the sewers, fattened on magic and carrion, and it
(06:50):
had caught Tom's scent. Tom ran again, but the chamber
offered no escape. The rat king moved with terrifying speed,
its bulk shaking the ground. Tom ducked behind a crate,
but the beast's snout smashed through wood, splintering. He scrambled
up a pile of bones, slipping on skulls, and threw
(07:13):
himself into another tunnel. The rat king followed, its body
barely fitting, its claws gouging the stone. The chase seemed endless.
Tom's lungs burned, his tiny body pushed beyond its limits,
He stumbled into a dead end chamber, a circular pit
with walls too smooth to climb. The grate above mocked
(07:36):
him with a glimpse of moonlight. The rat King entered,
its bulk, filling the tunnel's mouth, blocking any retreat. Tom
backed against the wall, his squeaks desperate, his hands scrabbling
for anything, a weapon away out there was nothing but
filth and despair. The rat King advanced its milky eyes,
(08:00):
unseeing yet locked on him. Its jaws opened, revealing teeth
crusted with rot. Tom's mind raced, flashing to Maris's cold smile,
to his own mocking laughter. I'm sorry, he squeaked, though
no one could hear. The rat King didn't care for apologies.
It lunged, and Tom's whirled became pain. The beast's teeth
(08:24):
clamped around his legs, crushing bone with a wet snap.
Tom screamed a sound no human throat could make. As
the rat King shook him like a doll. Blood sprayed,
painting the walls, mixing with the sewer's grime. The rat
King tossed him upward, and for a moment Tom hung
in the air, his vision blurring. Then the jaws closed again,
(08:48):
this time around his torso. The grotesque crunch of ribs echoed,
followed by a sickening slurp as the rat King began
to chew. Tom's screams faded to gurgles, his body torn
apart in the beast's maw. The last thing he saw
was the moonlight through the grate, cold and indifferent, as
(09:08):
the rat King swallowed him down, peace by grotesque peace.
Back in her shop, Maris felt a tremor in the air,
a ripple of her spell completing its work, She smiled,
sweeping up the shattered glass from Tom's visit. The townsfolk
would notice his absence, but they'd never connect it to her.
(09:29):
The sewers were hungry, after all, and Grimholdt had a
way of swallowing its fools. The next day, a bar
maid commented on the quiet, and a butcher shrugged. Tom
was gone, and life moved on. But deep below in
the dark, the rat king licked its lips, its belly full,
its milky eyes, searching for the next scent to chase.
(09:52):
Creepy isn't it being chased and devoured by the rat King?
Be sure to follow me or subscribe to my podcast
for more stone Enjoin the Candlelight story Works Network to
find other stories to help you sleep at night.
I recently went to visit some relatives in the old World,
and they were talking about the people who have been
disappearing around here lately, and there is no rhyme or
reason as to where they go. When I went to
pick up some coffee at the old coffee shop, I
overheard someone talking about how his nineteenth great grandfather had
(00:25):
disappeared from the area and about the rat problem. Instead
of telling me what was going on, he went into story,
and this is what he told. In the shadowed alleys
of grim Holt, where cobblestones glistened with the residue of
forgotten rains, lived Maris, a witch with eyes like storm
(00:46):
clouds and a temper to match. Her small shop, tucked
between a butcher's and a pawnbroker's, brimmed with jars of
toad eyes, dried herbs and curses bottled in murky vials.
The bwnsfolk whispered about her, but few dared cross her path,
except for Tom, a loud mouthed tanner with a laugh
(01:08):
like a donkey's bray. Tom, broad shouldered and reeking of
leather and Ale, had a habit of mocking Mariss whenever
he passed her. Shop. Oh a witch, he'd bellow, his
voice carrying to the market square, still brewing potions to
scare children? Or is that just your face? His cronies
(01:28):
would guffaw, slapping their knees, while Maris's fingers twitched at
her sides. She never responded, not with words. Her magic
was her answer, and she was patient. One fog choked evening,
Tom pushed too far. He swaggered into her shop, his
boots tracking mud across her rue etched floor. Cast me
(01:51):
a love spell, hag, he slurred, leaning over her counter.
Make the bar made fancy me, or I'll tell the
whole town you're a fraud. He laughed, a wet, mocking sound,
and knocked over a jar of newte tails. The glass shattered,
and Maris's eyes narrowed to slits. You'll regret that, she said,
(02:13):
her voice low, like the hiss of a kettle about
to boil. Tom laughed harder, spitting flecks of ale. Regret
you're all smoke and no fire, which Maris smiled, A thin,
dangerous thing. She reached beneath her counter, fingers brushing a
grim wire bound in black scales. Let's see how you
(02:34):
laugh in the sewers, She whispered. She muttered words that
twisted the air, syllables sharp as thorns, heavy with intent.
A sickly green light coiled from her hands. Rapping Tom
like a snake, He froze, his laugh, choking off as
his body shrank, limbs folding inward, skin glistening unnaturally. In seconds,
(02:56):
he was no taller than a rat, his clothes a
heap on the floor, his tiny eyes wide with panic,
Maris scooped him up, his squeaks pitiful against her iron grip.
She carried him to the back of her shop, where
a rusted toilet squatted in a corner, a relic from
when the building had been a tavern. You mocked my craft,
(03:19):
she said, dangling him over the bowl. Now swim in
your folly. With a flick, she dropped him into the water.
His tiny arms flailed, his squeaks drowned by the gurgle.
As she flushed, the pipes groaned, and Tom vanished in
a swirl of dark water. Marius dusted her hands and
(03:41):
returned to her counter, expecting that to be the end
of Tom the Tanner. But magic is a fickle thing,
and the sewers beneath Grimholt were no ordinary place. Tom,
still alive, tumbled through the pipes, his shrunken body battered
by currents of filth. The spell hadn't just made him small,
(04:02):
It had toughened him, like leather cured in his own
tanning vats. He splashed into a cavernous sewer chamber, landing
on a ledge slick with moss and worse. Coughing, He
scrambled to his feet, no bigger than a mouse, his
clothes gone, his body shivering in the damp. The air
(04:23):
stank of rot, and distant drips echoed like a heartbeat.
He was alive, but not for long. If he stayed still,
a skittering sound froze him. Eyes glinted in the dark, red, unblinking,
the size of coins rats. Not ordinary rats, but beasts
(04:44):
swollen by the magic that seeped into grim Hoolt's underbelly
from decades of spilled spells. They were as big as dogs,
their fur matted with grime, their teeth like jagged knives.
Tom screamed a high pitched squeak as the first rat lunged.
He ran, his tiny legs pumping across the slick stone.
(05:04):
The rats followed, their claws scraping, their squeals a chorus
of hunger. The sewer was a maze of tunnels, each
one darker than the last, lit only by faint phosphorescent fungi.
Tom darted through cracks, slid under rusted grates, and leaped
over puddles that smelt of death. The rats were relentless,
(05:25):
their noses twitching tracking his scent. One snapped at his heel,
tearing a strip of skin. He yelped, blood trailing, but
kept running, driven by the primal need to survive. He
found a narrow pipe, barely wide enough for his shrunken frame,
and squeezed inside. The rats clawed at the entrance, their
(05:46):
teeth gnashing, but they couldn't fit. Tom panted, his heart
hammering he was safe for now. The pipe led upward
toward a faint light. He climbed, his hands, slipping on
the slimy walls, driven by the thought of escape. If
he could reach the surface, he could find Maris, beg
(06:07):
for mercy, or at least die in the open air.
The pipe opened into a wider chamber, this one lined
with broken crates and bones, human animal, impossible to tell
the light came from a grate above, too high to reach.
Tom's hope flickered, then died as a new sound filled
(06:28):
the air, a deep guttural chittering. From the shadows, emerged
the largest rat yet, a monstrosity the size of a boar.
Its fur was patchy, its eyes milky, and its mouth
dripped with something thicker than saliva. It was the king
of the sewers, fattened on magic and carrion, and it
(06:50):
had caught Tom's scent. Tom ran again, but the chamber
offered no escape. The rat king moved with terrifying speed,
its bulk shaking the ground. Tom ducked behind a crate,
but the beast's snout smashed through wood, splintering. He scrambled
up a pile of bones, slipping on skulls, and threw
(07:13):
himself into another tunnel. The rat king followed, its body
barely fitting, its claws gouging the stone. The chase seemed endless.
Tom's lungs burned, his tiny body pushed beyond its limits,
He stumbled into a dead end chamber, a circular pit
with walls too smooth to climb. The grate above mocked
(07:36):
him with a glimpse of moonlight. The rat King entered,
its bulk, filling the tunnel's mouth, blocking any retreat. Tom
backed against the wall, his squeaks desperate, his hands scrabbling
for anything, a weapon away out there was nothing but
filth and despair. The rat King advanced its milky eyes,
(08:00):
unseeing yet locked on him. Its jaws opened, revealing teeth
crusted with rot. Tom's mind raced, flashing to Maris's cold smile,
to his own mocking laughter. I'm sorry, he squeaked, though
no one could hear. The rat King didn't care for apologies.
It lunged, and Tom's whirled became pain. The beast's teeth
(08:24):
clamped around his legs, crushing bone with a wet snap.
Tom screamed a sound no human throat could make. As
the rat King shook him like a doll. Blood sprayed,
painting the walls, mixing with the sewer's grime. The rat
King tossed him upward, and for a moment Tom hung
in the air, his vision blurring. Then the jaws closed again,
(08:48):
this time around his torso. The grotesque crunch of ribs echoed,
followed by a sickening slurp as the rat King began
to chew. Tom's screams faded to gurgles, his body torn
apart in the beast's maw. The last thing he saw
was the moonlight through the grate, cold and indifferent, as
(09:08):
the rat King swallowed him down, peace by grotesque peace.
Back in her shop, Maris felt a tremor in the air,
a ripple of her spell completing its work, She smiled,
sweeping up the shattered glass from Tom's visit. The townsfolk
would notice his absence, but they'd never connect it to her.
(09:29):
The sewers were hungry, after all, and Grimholdt had a
way of swallowing its fools. The next day, a bar
maid commented on the quiet, and a butcher shrugged. Tom
was gone, and life moved on. But deep below in
the dark, the rat king licked its lips, its belly full,
its milky eyes, searching for the next scent to chase.
(09:52):
Creepy isn't it being chased and devoured by the rat King?
Be sure to follow me or subscribe to my podcast
for more stone Enjoin the Candlelight story Works Network to
find other stories to help you sleep at night.
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