Lunatics Library 41 - Ocean Horror Stories: Part 2 - Lunatics Radio Hour

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:17):
Hello everyone and welcome back to another episode
of the Lunatics Radio Hourpodcast.
I am Abbey Brenker sitting herewith Alan Kudan.
Hello, and dare I say, afterfive episodes, this will be the
final installment of our megadeep dive into horror on the
high seas.

Speaker 2 (00:35):
We actually brought it to not really a high sea,
it's a lake, but we're recordinglakeside, so that's exciting.

Speaker 1 (00:42):
We're recording waterside to be very thematic
yeah, we thought that was very.
To be very thematic yeah, wethought that was very important
to all of you.

Speaker 2 (00:47):
Yeah, I'm sure it is.

Speaker 1 (00:49):
As a reminder, this is the first time ever that we
have had a two-part LunaticsLibrary series, because we have
so many stories to share withyou.
We have six ocean-themed horrorstories that we are going to
present today.
We have six today alone.
Six today alone.
How many do you have in thelast one?
Five grand total of 11 oceanhorror stories.

Speaker 2 (01:11):
They're so good, they're all so good.

Speaker 1 (01:12):
I love them so much.
And if you missed any of ourhistory episodes, we have three
parts of horror on the high seashaunted history for you.
We talk about haunted geographythe Bermuda triangle, atlantis.
We talk about haunted geographythe Bermuda Triangle, atlantis.
We talk about the terrifyingcreatures of the deep.
In part two and in part threewe talk about pirates, legendary
ships and all kinds ofold-timey sailor folklore.

Speaker 2 (01:35):
Abby.
This is cruel to our elderlylisteners.
They are going to die of oldage.

Speaker 1 (01:38):
Before finishing the series Well, hopefully they'll
hang on.
I also have to admit that wetotally forgot to talk about
Cribdus.

Speaker 2 (01:50):
What?
The whirlpool, yeah, themythical whirlpool?
No, we didn't, we did.
We talked about it when youmade the brief allusion to the
Odyssey.

Speaker 1 (01:54):
I know, but we didn't talk about it in nearly enough
detail.
So what I've done to make it upto everybody is if you head to
lunaticsprojectcom, I wrote anessay on cryptists so that we
can all read about what wasreally left out in a blatant and
horrifying way from this series.

Speaker 2 (02:10):
Yeah, but everyone already knows.

Speaker 1 (02:11):
I didn't, I didn't know.
That's why it was left out,that's upsetting.
I know I take fullresponsibility for that.

Speaker 2 (02:17):
For the first time ever.

Speaker 1 (02:19):
But I'm so thrilled and excited to share these
stories.
They are so freaking good.
If you missed last episode, golisten to that as well.
We're just again over the moonto have 11 stories, 11 fantastic
stories, to present to you, andwe're grateful to all of the
writers and narrators who havecome together to make this
possible.
It really is a fun.
The most fun part of thisproject is getting to work with

(02:42):
the community around us.
Should we jump into the firstone?
We have a lot to get through.

Speaker 2 (02:45):
Please just start it.
We've got to keep it moving.

Speaker 1 (02:48):
All right, here we go .
Bloodington Beer.
Written by Tony Earnshaw.
Read by Tessam Knight.

Speaker 5 (03:03):
There were those that considered coastal towns out of
season to have some kind ofpeculiar charm.
The tourists were missing, thearcades with their slot machines
were shut, even the fish andchip shops were empty and the
pubs catered to the localsrather than the out-of-towners.
Ray Harrison didn't buy intoany of that charm talk bullshit.
As far as he was concerned,bloodlington was a dump that

(03:26):
should be washed away by the sea.
He'd been born there, schooledthere and was employed there At
55, he was still trying to getout, but it was a pipe dream.
Like so many others, he wasstuck.
Life had become a continuousroutine of sleep, work, eat, tv,
repeat.
He hated Bloodlington and allthe people that lived in it, and

(03:51):
he hated himself for not havingthe balls to get out.
Small town boy, small town man,small town corpse in a small
town graveyard, small townlegacy, or rather no legacy at
all that would be Ray's fate.
Oblivion, these were the randomthoughts that strayed through

(04:11):
Ray's brain as he stared outbeyond the end of the pier into
the endless dark of the NorthSea.
Nothing else mattered.
His fishing rod dangleddisconsolately into the water.
He wouldn't catch anything, nordid he expect to.
It was just him and the silenceand the darkness and the
blackness of the sea that spreadout before him like a

(04:32):
tablecloth, never-ending andtimeless.
He hadn't had a bite in threehours, unwrapping and chewing on
a Mars bar.
He found YouTube on his iPhone.
There was one bar of signal, sohe settled down in his chair to
watch Jaws.
It never got old and he stillexperienced goose pimples when
Quint's reel started to click asthe shark took the bait.

(04:53):
It was every angler's dream tocatch the big one.
The movie was still playing when, far behind him in the distance
, he heard the thumping clod offootsteps.
He knew instantly that it wouldbe drunks, and he knew
instantly that he would find nocompanionship in the bellicose
camaraderie of tanked-up men whowould force their drunkenness

(05:15):
upon him.
They emerged out of thedarkness three indistinct shapes
illuminated by the far lightsof the promenade.
Behind them, two were clutchingbottles.
Another was clinging to thehandrail, unsteady on his feet.
He looked as if he was going tothrow up.
The remaining pair strodepurposefully towards him,
exhibiting a combination ofmacho swagger with just a touch

(05:38):
of beery stagger.
Putting away his phone andholding onto his fishing rod,
ray turned sideways to look atthem.
The rod wasn't particularlyexpensive, but it was the only
one he had.
He didn't need it damaged andcouldn't afford to replace it.
If it was, he hoped they wouldgo away quickly.
One came and stood next to him.
What you fishing for, he saidby way of introduction, looking

(06:02):
at the rod and then out to sea.
Congareel, said Ray.
The other man did notimmediately respond.
Behind him, his friend wasunzipping his fly.
He launched an empty bottle outinto the dark and seconds later
released a gush of urine thatarced down into the waters,
lapping around the base of thepier.
Ray groaned inwardly.

(06:23):
Suddenly the man beside himasked Got any beer?
Ray decided the best course ofaction was to try and entertain
his companions, unwelcome asthey were.
There's a couple in the cooler,help yourself.
The second man was closest.
He wiped his hands on his jeansand flipped the cooler's lid,
taking out both cans.

(06:43):
He also helped himself to Ray'ssandwiches, peeling off the
bako foil to sniff out theircontents.
What's in these, he askedDeliberately, not turning and
keeping his focus on the sea.
Ray replied ham and pickle.
He was rewarded with the soundof someone being sick.
The third man at the handrailwas noisily depositing the last

(07:04):
few hours entertainment.
Eight pints and a burger withcheesy fries over the edge.
Great, thought Ray.
It can swill, together with thepiss from the other side.
So much for catching any fish,you dirty git, said man number
two.
He'd been about to take a biteof the sandwich.
Instead he threw it back intothe cooler and popped the can of

(07:27):
beer he'd appropriated.
Man three wiped his mouth andslowly crumpled glazed eyes,
closing as cool sea air washedover his face, swigging Ray's
beer.
Man two positioned himself nextto his friend.
He belched and then followed upwith the obvious question.
He belched and then followed upwith the obvious question what
are you trying to catch?
Then His friend answeredCongareels you.

(07:50):
What Said the other man?
He leaned on the handrail andfixed Ray with a wobbly stare.
The first man standing betweenthem turned and helped himself
to the remaining can from thecooler, flipping the tab.
He took a sip and returned tohis place at the pier's end.
Ray decided that bonhomie wasthe best form of defence.
As casually as he could muster,he launched into an explanation

(08:16):
.
I'm fishing for conger eel.
They tend to come into theshallows at night.
They're common around here.
With the right bait you canland four-footers, sometimes
larger.
You eat them, said the secondman over the top of his tinny.
Ray took a second or two to letthe question sink in.
You can eat them, but they're aprotected species nowadays, so
I tend to let them go.
Man two snorted, drained hisbeer can in one lengthy swallow

(08:39):
and flung it off the pier.
It sailed into the blackness,falling thirty-odd feet into the
water and landing with a plink.
Bit fucking pointless then.
Innit, waste of time, it'sfucking freezing.
Turning to where the third manwas, curled up in a fetal
position, his semi-consciousbrain telling his body to try
and stay warm in the chill ofthe night, he wandered over and

(09:01):
nudged him with his foot.
Here, jez.
He called back to Ray'spier-side companion.
Kieran's bladdered Twat'spassed out.
The man called Jez glanced atthe drunken heap.
Then he said Ever caught one?
Ray was stuck.
Keeping the conversation goingmight mean them sticking around.
If that happened, how longwould it be before they asked

(09:23):
for his phone or his wallet?
But if he didn't speak to themthey could take umbrage.
Damned if you do, damned if youdon't.
Ray was about to respond whenhis reel clicked.
The rod tip baited with squidrattled.
Then there came a succession ofquick, violent jerks followed
by the reel letting out a yardor so of line.
The man called Jez suddenlycame alive.

(09:45):
You got one, he said.
Maybe, said Ray, glad of thedistraction.
The tugs on the line werebecoming stronger, pulls that
yanked his arms forward.
He held the rod steady, notwishing to strike too quickly in
case he pulled squid bait fromthe conger.
Then, deliberately andmethodically, he wound the reel
until he felt the weight of thefish.
It was big, bigger than he'dlanded before.

(10:08):
Heavy too, he estimated, maybethirty to forty pounds.
He began to haul back on therod.
Callum, come and see this.
Fuckers bending the rod, theman called Jez said animatedly.
The conger, fighting to releaseitself from the hook, was
writhing on the line, threshingthe sea into whiteness.

(10:31):
Ray pressed his wellied feetagainst the base of the pier's
barrier and leaned away from thehandrail, his arms strained to
draw back the rod and to controlthe fish, which was now
spinning itself.
In a bid for freedom.
Ray peered into the blacknessand saw the conger begin to
emerge from the water.
He reeled and drew, pulling thefish clear.
Then there came a sharp,jarring movement that wrenched
him forwards and painfullyjammed his chest into the

(10:53):
handrail.
He almost lost hold of the rod.
The movement was repeated asthe conger was seemingly hauled
downwards with great violence.
He reeled back once more.
Beside him the two men werestaring, transfixed at the
battle going on before them.
The man called Jez moved tohelp, standing behind Ray and
attempting to assist with therod which was heaving up and

(11:16):
down with the force of thehooked fish.
The threshing in the water hadbecome more frenzied.
The conger squirmed andstruggled.
Had become more frenzied.
The conger squirmed andstruggled, twisting on the line
Twice.
Ray was almost pulled off thepier At one point his feet
momentarily left the woodenplanking.
Only Jez's grip kept him out ofthe water.
Then, abruptly, the lineslackened.

(11:40):
Ray thought the fish had gone,but instead he was able to reel
back and recover what was leftof the conger.
Handlining the weight, hepulled the remains of the fish
up over the handrail.
Around eleven inches of whathad been a considerable eel
clung to the squid on the hook.
The rest had been torn away andRay saw there were marks on its

(12:01):
flesh where something had dugdeep into it Sucker marks, big
ones.
He brought the rod over thehandrail and lay it and the
conger's head on the planking.
Bloodied water dripped alongthe woodwork towards the
handrail, where Ciaran laydrunken still, and down through
the gaps into the swirlingwaters below.
It was a dull thump that seemedto impact the pier foundations.

(12:26):
Ray, along with Jez and Callum,looked down to the sea that
buffeted the barnacledstanchions of the old pier.
Fucking hell, muttered Callum.
There was something in thewater, something with disc-like
eyes, the size of dinner plates,that occupied a space just
beneath the surface, somethingthat rocked the safety of the

(12:47):
Victorian pier, something huge.
All three men were gripped bythe view.
Here was a genuine monster ofthe deep, a mighty beast capable
of tearing to pieces anothercreature, literally rending it
in two.
It was a squid, possibly thebiggest ever seen in UK waters,
and it was resting just 30 feetfrom where they stood.

(13:10):
They watched the squid glidebeneath the pier Out of view for
a handful of seconds.
Its disappearance was matchedby the trio's dumbfounded
silence.
Then there came a mighty slamas something collided with the
underside of the planking.
Jez dropped his beer can inshock.
The rapid sound of solid impactoccurred again.

(13:30):
Then it repeated a third time,followed by a fourth.
Ray's eyes were deceiving him.
Did the planking just appear tomove, maybe crack slightly
where the shredded conger's headlay dripping.
Callum clearly had the sameidea.
He pitched forward, stampinghis foot loudly on the deck of
the pier Beneath him.
Through the wood, there came anodd swishing sound, as if

(13:53):
something large was drawing away.
Thirty feet below the three men,the creature powered itself
away from beneath the pier.
It emerged along its length andfired its tentacles up towards
the handrail, seeking what mightbe there.
They found Ciaran.
Tentacles coiled themselvesaround the man's inert body,

(14:13):
suckers attaching themselves tohis clothes, before finding the
bare skin of his arms and thenhis face.
Ciaran's eyes opened as hisbare, fogged brain sought to
communicate to his body what washappening.
The squid felt for a grip,wrapping its limbs around the
hapless man who was incapable ofdefence even as his fingers
raked at his attacker.
Then, with a tug, it began topull him from the flatness of

(14:37):
the pier.
Ray darted forward.
He attempted to grab the man'shead but drew back.
Repulsed by the tentacles thatwriggled and writhed, jez and
Callum each grabbed at a foot,pulling their friend back from
the edge as his body, engulfedby the squid's strangling
embrace, began to tip off thepear's edge.
Callum was screaming, but itwas noise, not words.

(14:57):
Jez grunted and heaved.
They were losing the battle.
The squid had a cruel,unyielding grip.
Ray wrestled with his disgustand tore at the tentacles
seeking to free them fromCiaran's face where evil-looking
suckers with curved claws wereconnected to his skin.
The wretched man howled inagony and terror.

(15:18):
The squid fought back.
One tentacle wound itselftighter around Ciaran's head,
spearing his skin with hooksthat caused pain like multiple
hypodermic needles.
The other flicked free andfired towards Ray.
Suddenly it encircled his neckand, with a mighty movement,
both men were swept bodily fromthe comparative safety of the

(15:39):
pier and down into the turbulent, surging sea.
Ray found himself being drawnswiftly into the depths.
The huge squid propelled itselfthrough the sea, gliding into
the darkness with its dualvictims.
In those moments, one thought,and one thought alone, dominated
Ray's consciousness Survival.

(16:00):
He pulled a knife from his beltand fought against the flow of
water to slash at and sever atentacle enclosing his neck.
Quite suddenly, he foundhimself released.
The sea beast continued on itsjourney, taking with it the
doomed Ciaran.
Ray began to push for thesurface, his head and heart
pounding and his lungs desperatefor more air than they held On

(16:22):
the pier.
Jez screamed ineffectually atthe choppy waters that beat
against it.
There was no sign of his friendor the fisherman who had been
taken with him.
Callum took off in the directionof the seafront.
Breathing heavily and crying inshock.
He ran blindly in search ofhelp.
The tempestuous sea seemedcrowded with lustrous forms that

(16:42):
seemed to carry Ray along.
No longer in control of hismovements, he was barrelled
upwards by a throng of bodiesthat fired him ten feet up out
of the waves and into the nightair.
Cartwheeling, he lost the knifeand caught a blurred sight of
the pier and seemingly farbeyond a line of lights.
Then he was plunged back intothe sea.

(17:03):
All about him, in the waters,around his legs, was furious
movement.
He fought to tread water butwas in fact buoyed up by scores
of little bodies, for far andwide there was squid, hundreds
of them, maybe thousands.
The sea thrashed with theirmovement.
Ray was stuck in the middle ofit, as if through a long faraway

(17:27):
tunnel.
He heard a voice Beyond thethreshing of the sea.
Jez was urging him to reach thepier.
Ray was at least sixty feet out.
He tried to swim and found hishands and feet colliding with
the living contents of thesquirming sea.
At any moment he expected tojoin Ciaran of the squirming sea
.
At any moment he expected tojoin Ciaran, but the squid did

(17:48):
not attack.
He made for the pier.
Jez encouraged him on.
Ray floundered and flapped,struggling against the squid and
the dead weight of his clothesand boots.
Yet he made progress.
All the time Jez was rallyinghim, ray tried to keep the other
man's face in focus.
He could barely hear hisexhortations.
The sound that enveloped himwas deafening.

(18:10):
Then something happened.
Ray felt the water beneath himmove like a solid mass.
He was first driven backwards,shooting 40 feet through the sea
and out beyond where he hadbegun swimming, he caught sight
of Jez, who jerked himself backfrom the pier's edge.
Then the water erupted assomething immeasurably vast

(18:31):
emerged from the primordialdeepness On the pier.
Jez began to run Behind him.
A squid that seemed to risevertically out of the swelling
water blotted out the moon.
It loomed against the cloudlesssky, its tentacles flailing
through the night and seekingout prey.
A colossal being crashedthrough the end of the old pier,

(18:52):
snapping timbers and ironworklike twigs.
Far bigger than the creaturethat had taken Ciaran and Ray,
it battered the pier's framewith tentacles as thick as tree
trunks and laid waste to whathad once been a marvel of
Victorian engineering.
Jez had no chance.
The tentacles found and caughthim in a crushing embrace that,

(19:13):
combined fatal pressure with athousand searing cactus stings,
snuffed from life, his armsbroke and his ribcage collapsed
as he was drawn up and off thepier, which had begun to
collapse into the sea.
The squid then disappearedbeneath the waters, taking the
luckless Jez with it andmanoeuvring the man towards its

(19:35):
massive beak, which methodicallytore chunks from him and fed,
high above the inky blackness, afloating beer can served as a
pathetic memorial.
Running on century-old woodworkthat shook and splintered
beneath him, callum had reachedthe promenade.
He was greeted by a handful ofpuzzled locals, all dressed for

(19:56):
bed, who, on hearing the noiseof the Pears' destruction, had
emerged from their homes.
Callum, hysterical and sobbing,made no sense to those
straining to see beyond thecluster of huts that marked the
pier's entrance.
But they could trust their ears.
What's more, they could believethe angry swell of the sea as
it smashed against little boatsthat were tied to the promenade

(20:17):
wall.
One man went into his home tocall the police, another rang
the RNLI.
A third shone a torch out tosea.
Its 600-metre beam illuminatedsomething no modern man should
ever see, a thing of legend, athing of myth and mystery, a
thing that belonged in the darkdepths, a thing of horror, a

(20:39):
gargantuan thing that knowingseafarers of old called Ganshuan
.
Thing that knowing seafarers ofold called Kraken.
Having obliterated the town'spier, the ocean colossus
propelled itself towards land.
Its enormous bulk drew the seawith it, driving hundreds of
tonnes of water towards thebreakwaters and hungrily onwards
to the promenade and harbour.

(21:00):
It engulfed the seafront ofBloodlington, taking with it the
little craft in the harbour,the benches and street furniture
, overlooking it and drivinginto shops and cafes and
amusement arcades.
Also carried along was Ray,thrust onto the break wall.
By a miracle he found himselfwedged amidst the uppermost

(21:21):
rocks with his head mere inchesabove the heaving waters.
Trapped and helpless andshivering.
He could only look on as theraging seas crashed into the
little town and lay waste to theVictorian cottages that looked
out onto the black water Allaround him.
The North Sea raged and flaredwith the movement of hundreds of

(21:42):
sleek bodies.
Some of them are small, some ofthem large and some of them
bigger than a ship.
They were headed towards shore.
The pier was barely standing now, ancient iron girders pointed
to the dark sky like the fingersof a dead man clawing for mercy
.
In a final hopeless gesture, apolice car had pulled up with

(22:03):
two officers inside.
They barely had time to callfor armed response support when
they were met by the Kraken'ssearching tentacles.
Despite slamming their vehicleinto reverse, it was
meticulously drawn along thelength of the shattered pier
until lights gleaming it and itsoccupants disappeared into the
murkiness.

(22:23):
On Harbour Street, locals boltedinto their homes and slammed
the doors.
In the harbour itself,seemingly hundreds of squid
tentacles reached out like liveantennae to investigate boats,
snapping masts and punchingthrough holes.
One creature missing the end ofa tentacle could be seen
wrathfully flailing at the metalrailings that line the

(22:45):
promenade wall.
Suddenly, the door to the cosytea rooms burst open.
A man clutching a shotgun firedboth barrels at the writhing
shape.
Incredibly, the pellets foundtheir target.
The man who ran a deck chairbusiness was able to reload and
fire twice, hitting the squideach time.
Then he retreated into his home, pulling Callum with him.

(23:06):
A police armed response vehiclearrived as the Kraken arose once
more.
One of three officers armedwith 9mm submachine guns,
radioed a report to anincredulous handler.
Then, together, the trio openedfire in an impressive and
cacophonous fusillade.
High-velocity rounds poundedinto the behemoth's hide but had

(23:28):
little effect other than toenrage it.
Those tree-trunk tentaclesreached out from within the
destruction of the pier tosnatch one man and whip him
towards its wicked beak, whichtore him bloodily apart, even as
he shrieked and his weaponstill fired.
The other two officers fled indifferent directions, one

(23:49):
falling from the floodedpromenade and into the swirling
waters of the harbour where hewas swarmed by squid.
His weapon did not sound as hedisappeared beneath the foam.
The remaining man jumped forthe radio and, ignoring code,
words and procedure, screamed agarbled and terrified beg for
help.
Ray's leg was broken.
It was jammed between two rocksand he couldn't pull it free.

(24:12):
His body was wracked by sharpjabs of pain and he felt faint.
There was squid around him, butnone had attacked.
All the violence was playingout around the pier and in
Bloodlington itself.
All the violence was playingout around the pier and in
Bloodlington itself, which hehad watched in silent,
confounded awe.
The Kraken was positioned in theharbour.
It was demolishing the seafront, dislodging and hurling away

(24:34):
huge chunks of concrete andstonework.
Periodically there would be avolley of gunfire.
It was as ineffectual as achild's catapult.
Ray was suddenly illuminatedagainst the rocks.
A searchlight found his shapeand beyond it, a voice called to
him Stay where you are.
Pinned in one position.
Ray could not turn.

(24:55):
He was too exhausted to speak.
Instead, he raised an arm tosignal he had heard the order.
The lifeboat began to movetoward him.
Beneath it, something ploughedsmoothly through the water.
The men on board looked on inutter disbelief as the titanic
kraken wrecked more ofBloodlington.
It was captured in stark reliefby the town's streetlights what

(25:18):
few of them remained.
Ray felt the sea seethe beneathhim.
He knew what would happen next.
The lifeboat couldn't get closeto the break wall, and so two of
the crew launched a dinghy.
Instantly.
It was overwhelmed, with itsinhabitants smashing at the
squid's tentacles with theirpaddles.
Almost simultaneously, both menwere yanked from the little

(25:40):
craft by stinging tentacles andlugged beneath the surface.
The skipper of the biggervessel made to turn back towards
the open sea, but the squidthat had taken Ciaran arose
beside it and flung itstentacles onto the deck.
It was joined by others.
Steadily, the boat was pulledover until it was swamped by
water and squid.

(26:01):
The crew pitched into the seatheir life jackets, keeping them
afloat and making them easytargets for the teeming
predators.
One man let out a high-pitchedscreech of agony as the squid
grabbed him.
One drew his flailing legstowards its beak and, with
shearing scissor action, tore apiece from his booted foot.
Seconds later he, like his boat, had vanished, craning his head

(26:26):
.
Ray could only look on inhelpless, weary resignation.
He was getting cold now.
He didn't know how long hecould last.
He wondered whether he wouldsuccumb to hypothermia, to
drowning or to the squid.
He was fading.
His brain wasn't workingproperly anymore.
It was full of awful images andsounds, things that made for a

(26:49):
horror story.
Ray tried to free his brokenlimb and winced as pain fired
its way along his leg.
But there appeared to bemovement.
Maybe it would come free.
Black waves, made impenetrablyblack by squid ink, continued to
lap across him as the krakenwreaked its annihilation.
But was it calming down?

(27:11):
Perhaps it would soon be sated?
Then he heard it In thedistance, unmistakable the
droning whoop-whoop-whoop-throbof a helicopter.
What was it?
Police, air ambulance, the Navy?
He didn't care, he just hopedfor salvation.
And then, amidst the madnessand the terror and the thrashing
of the squid, he smiled.

(27:33):
Bloodlington was on the map now, wasn't it?
Well and truly?
And what a tale he would haveto tell.
The helicopter choppered in fromthe open sea.
Ray raised his arms in welcome,but it passed overhead and
hovered above the town From theharbour.
There came a magnificent,devastating eruption as the

(27:53):
Kraken propelled itself from thewater and in an instant pulled
the helicopter from the air.
It slammed into the remnants ofthe pier, its rotors scything
and shattering as they smashedinto debris.
Then it exploded in a fireballthat lit up the shore and the
thousands of creatures thatfilled the waves.

(28:14):
The immense kraken, whichappeared unharmed, drew the
blazing wreck into the water,where it sizzled and steamed and
was extinguished.
The night suddenly feltimpossibly black.
Ray began to weep.
He dimly recalled ancientwoodcuts that depicted a kraken
assaulting a sailing ship, itsbody and tentacles looming

(28:36):
higher than the mainmast.
There was no hope for him now.
All was lost.
He batted away a small squidthat swam close to him.
It returned and wrapped itstentacles around his forearm.
He allowed it.
He hoped the bigger ones mightnot venture across the rocks,
and then remembered how thekraken had been unaffected by
the pier, the harbour, thewrecked boats and houses and the

(29:00):
helicopter he vowed to hang on.
It was still dark, but dawncouldn't be too far away.
Another small squid attacheditself to his leg.
Its eyes, like little silverdiscs, regarded him blankly.
He felt it testing the fabricof his trousers with its suckers
.
The squid on his arm detacheditself and fired off into the

(29:22):
sea.
One on one.
Gone, he closed his eyes toreality and gave himself over to
hope.
Out in the North Sea, the RoyalNavy, frigate Nyad, received an
unusual report.
A giant squid had apparentlydestroyed the small coastal town
of Bloodlington.
Its commander, asleep in hiscabin, laughed when he was waken

(29:45):
to be told the news.
We're not the USS Stein, and nocephalopod exists.
That's so big, he saidconfidently as he casually gave
the order to swing about.

Speaker 1 (29:57):
Before anything else I just have to say Tessa has my
favorite voice of all time.

Speaker 2 (30:02):
I mean, I don't know how many times we can beat this
dead horse.
She's cheating, she's horse.

Speaker 1 (30:06):
She's cheating, she's cheating, she's cheating.
She has an amazing voice.

Speaker 2 (30:09):
It's too good.
It immediately elevates anystory from amazing to better
amazing.

Speaker 1 (30:13):
But Tony's story is so good.

Speaker 2 (30:15):
Yeah, it's a great story, although, although I have
one issue with this story thatmust be addressed, tell us so.
I don't know anything aboutEngland.
Nothing Sure, however, thishave you ever?

Speaker 1 (30:29):
been.

Speaker 2 (30:29):
No, okay, if I did, I would know something.

Speaker 1 (30:32):
Okay, sure.

Speaker 2 (30:33):
But apparently in the story we hear that the conger
eel is a protected species thatdoesn't get eaten, Right?
The conger eel is one of themost delicious fish in the sea.

Speaker 1 (30:45):
You've eaten it Absolutely Well.

Speaker 2 (30:45):
you're part of the problem, it sounds like If you
go down to South Americaspecifically, you know, like the
western southern area, yeah,you can get.
Well, you'll get congreel,which is congreel, and it is the
most delicious fried fish onthe planet.

Speaker 1 (31:02):
Yeah, well, I would say, this is probably a regional
law, it's not a global law.

Speaker 2 (31:05):
I don't know.
It's just it's presented asit's a protected species.
I don't know you can protectspecies somewhere and eat them
elsewhere.

Speaker 1 (31:12):
I think you can.
I think it depends on howabundant they are in that region
.

Speaker 2 (31:14):
I don't know that because I don't know anything
about England.

Speaker 1 (31:16):
Anyway, back to the important bits.
It's so good though you got totry it.
The story or the eel.

Speaker 2 (31:23):
Congreo, congreo frito.
It's just again the best friedfish you'll ever have.

Speaker 1 (31:28):
I don't like eel, I don't eat eel.

Speaker 2 (31:29):
You can also make a congreo soup, and that is so so
you'd never know it was eel.
It's like a white fish.
It's so good.

Speaker 1 (31:37):
Tony does an amazing job at presenting almost an epic
feeling short story.
It's so exciting.
I feel like you're on the edgeof your seat the entire time and
Tessa again does just a greatjob bringing it to life.

Speaker 2 (31:48):
It is a rock and cracking story.

Speaker 1 (31:49):
It's a rock and cracking story, hell yeah.

Speaker 2 (31:51):
It's super well written and really conveys the
scale of helplessness of thetown, which I think is actually
really hard to do in literaryformat.
Sure, I thought this one cametogether super well, and I also
got to say that the helicoptertakedown was just really cool.

Speaker 1 (32:09):
So epic, yeah, I thought it was incredibly well
written, like you said, was onthe edge of my seat the whole
time, and typically this sort ofLovecraftian type of monster
story isn't always my go-to andit kept me very, very intrigued
the whole time.
They developed characters veryquickly that were fascinating
and amazing.
Well, well done all around.

Speaker 2 (32:28):
Good short story 10 out of 10.

Speaker 1 (32:31):
10 out of 10.
Well done, tony.
Thank you for sharing your workwith us.
10 out of 10 all around.
So if you want more from Tony,let me tell you a little bit
about Tony Earnshaw.
So if you want more from Tony,let me tell you a little bit
about Tony Earnshaw.
Tony Earnshaw is a Britishwriter who was born, bred and
lives in Yorkshire.
Sorry if I pronounced any ofthis wrong.

Speaker 2 (32:47):
It's a Yorkshire.

Speaker 1 (32:54):
He roots his stories in the everyday, focusing on
ordinary people who somehow findthemselves drawn into
extraordinary situations thatnonetheless maintain a basis in
credibility.
He has written seven nonfictionbooks and contributed to 20
more, which is incrediblyimpressive, and his work has
been featured in tons ofdifferent magazines and outlets.
You can follow him at TonyEarnshaw on Facebook and X and

(33:14):
the Tony Earnshaw on Instagram.
He also has some new stuff onthe way, so we are going to link
all the different ways that youcan follow Tony on social media
and on his website so that youcan be up to speed when his next
book comes out.

Speaker 2 (33:27):
I do have one thing to say about England.

Speaker 1 (33:30):
Okay.

Speaker 2 (33:30):
I recently learned how to say England in Spanish.
Do you have any idea?

Speaker 1 (33:34):
Inglaterra.

Speaker 2 (33:36):
Inglaterra.
Yeah, I don't know.
I've never heard, never.
I've never heard that out loudbefore.
I think it makes perfect sense.
It's just kind of funny.

Speaker 1 (33:43):
Yeah, I love the UK.
I've been to London a few times.
I've been to, and you know,towns outside of London, dublin
towns outside of Dublin.
Actually, I've been to quite abit of Ireland but I really want
to go to Scotland.

Speaker 2 (33:55):
Why.

Speaker 1 (33:55):
That's where all the spooky magic happens.
So I'm told, Lots of historiccemeteries, lots of ruins, which
of course are across allcountries.

Speaker 2 (34:03):
Yeah, but all the best fish are protected.

Speaker 1 (34:06):
That's a good point.
What are we going to eat?
All right, let's keep thingsrolling here.

Speaker 3 (34:16):
We have another excellent story in the queue
Uncharted, written by JP Relf,read by Cyril Luke.

Speaker 7 (34:25):
There are more human remains in the ocean than in all
the terrestrial graveyardscombined.
Coraline, when I drowned, thesky above was deepest blue,
sequined with stars.
I had one last thought beforethe ocean's embrace, tight as a
yearning lover's, smothered meto velvet cold.

(34:49):
A memory of a sparkling dressworn at a Christmas party, with
red shoes shocking red shoes,with killer heels.
I'd chosen them to take theattention from my face, from the
smile, doing little toembellish the hollowness that
was always revealed by my eyes.
I'd chosen them to hide behind.
I don't even like red.
I hated Christmas.
In the end, I hated everything,especially myself.

(35:10):
By walking into the ocean,pockets filled with returning
pebbles, I hoped that hollownesswould be forever filled with
cleansing salt water.
As I was conveyed to uncharteddepths, the stars vanished from
my sight like summer freckles.
In winter, when I woke, thewater around and above me

(35:30):
shimmered with preternaturallight.
I stared at my hands, turningthem over and over, shocked by
how they flickered from solid totranslucent, allowing small,
curious fish to slip through mypalms before becoming corporeal
again.
I spun in the water like ajellyfish.
What had I become?
Was this what death looked like?

(35:50):
I felt the ocean surge throughmy body warm like blood.
Yet I couldn't feel my heart.
Its shattered beat had been allI'd known once.
Its absence was oddlycomforting.
I drifted through currents,finding a grace and ease of
movement.
Crustaceans and seafloor becameenwoven in my hair.
I was never completely alone.

(36:11):
I pushed myself to the ocean'sbed, the exquisite midnight blue
where satiny covers puffed,with the tossing and turning of
restless bedfellows.
I burrowed into the sand likean eel, curled and closed my
eyes.
I had given myself to the ocean.
She had brought me back.
I still didn't know why.

(36:31):
Yet in this strange form, purgedand remade by seawater, I'd
found a peace long denied me.
I rested.
There's no consideration fortime.
In the deep ocean, I swim and Irest.
I never surface in daylight.
Thoughts of the sun's revealingglare repel me.
I am of the salty darkness now,a darkness teeming with color.

(36:53):
Months may have passed Longer,it doesn't concern me.
I am untethered in thissubaquatic world, freed from
physical pains and emotionaltorments.
I know the ocean wantssomething from me in return.
I still wait for my salt-burnedeyes to show me the way I skim
the ocean floor, stirring sandwith my fingers.

(37:14):
In the glimmering green gold,something incongruous is
unveiled A tragic human formFemale Scraps of sea-bleached
cloth clinging to white bones.
Scorpionfish whip strands ofsilver hair around the skull as
if they wish to plait it.
Tabby cat mackerel brushagainst two hands, grasping
upwards like pallid crabs.

(37:36):
Threads of faded blue ropetrail from her wrists.
I look down, see the sameknotted at the ankles.
As the sands shift further, Isee rocks beneath her pelvis,
gray, not of this place.
This isn't someone who gaveherself to the ocean as I did.
She was discarded here.
She doesn't belong.

(37:57):
When I rise, the cuckoo rayswhirl a funnel to carry the
woman, freed from a sandy grave,up, up up.
I push her into the shallows,the cover of night hiding our
grim purpose.
The ocean sighs, waves, shiverRoll her gently onto the beach.
I stare a while at the lonelybones, luminescent in the

(38:18):
moonlight.
I hope she is soon discovered,named, rested in a terrestrial
grave bed.
A while at the lonely bones,luminescent in the moonlight, I
hope she is soon discovered,named, rested in a terrestrial
grave bed, perhaps visited byloved ones with tear-spattered
roses and lilies.
For a selfish moment I want tocrawl up beside her, feel the
cold press of stones and shellson my knees, the piquant wind on
my lips, but I do unveil thelost.

(38:39):
With each sand-softened bone,each circlet of blue threads
around, a fragile joint ragethrashes inside me, builds like

(39:03):
a tidal wave.
I can do nothing but let itwash over the beach, bearing the
wretched dead, hope theirdiscovery will lead someone to
the door of an earthbound beast,while my salt blood burns with
the urge to lead the beast hereto the anguish of the ocean.
To me, susanna, you should havetrusted that twisting in your

(39:23):
gut, the prickle that raced likehot goose flesh over your skin.
He was all wrong.
You smelled it, tasted itsomehow in the air around him.
You felt it.
When his eyes pond, scum green,abandoned his practiced smile,
you should have lashed out,scream, run.
You can't now.
You can only close your eyes,find a memory to hide in, away

(39:47):
from his clammy hands on you.
The fried fish stink of hisbreath.
Summer heat still baking thesand Laughter, bright as the
fairy lights strung betweenpoles, an unexplored swirl of
glowing skin, sweat and coconuteyes, so blue they must have
drained the morning sky, herkiss, all grapefruit lip balm
and hot need.

(40:08):
The beach has blurred.
You only see her, feel her, herhands on the pale skin beneath
your bikini, scorching like thesun.
Cora, your greatest love, yourgreatest loss.
Your mind clings to that pecanskin, those beautiful eyes.
She wasn't haunted then.
She was wild and free as theocean.

(40:29):
You're yanked hard from thatsummer haze into stinging cold
air.
The same ocean, but darker,uglier, horribly close.
It seems to whisper your namein sussurrant urgency.
You fill your eyes with stars,let tears full of light spill
over.
You barely feel the tighteningof the ropes, the gouging bite.
You let the shush of the wavesmask his ugly, breathing fetid

(40:54):
and fevered.
When the hard slap of the watercomes, a numbness spreads over
the pain, blanketing.
You're falling through layersof deepening blue, a fist of ice
in your chest.
In the final moments, your mindconjures grapefruit, kisses and
a love blistering as an Augustsun, wild and free Tyranny.

(41:16):
He watches the melee from atopthe cliff, pressed against his
car window like a fretful dog.
Rain clouds mask the sun, fillthe car with cold shadows.
The news of a twelfth bodyspewed onto the beach, laid out
on the stony sand like rattlingflotsam.
They might identify this one.
Six others had been named sofar.
Finally find the common threadA tenuous, fraying connection

(41:38):
between the victims.
Between them and him, redstrings on a corkboard.
The car had gotten stuffy sourfrom his sweat and breath.
He swipes the window clear witha sleeve.
Below, the beach is clearing nomore to be mined from the
pebbled sand.
A green tent collapsed.
A trail of black and yellowtape snaps in the wind as it's

(41:59):
rolled up.
He stares at the ocean, itsmocking calm.
His hands tighten around thesteering wheel, turning white as
the beach belch bones.
Why is this happening?
How?
He's shrewd, cautious with hiswork.
There were no markers to leadto graves, certainly no trophies
.
His deeds left intentionallyunmapped.

(42:19):
He sent them all to the oceanfloor with rocks and ropes.
Their remains should have beenscattered and scoured, buried by
the sands, lost.
It was as if they'd foundwillful purpose, driven by a
desire for reckoning.
His chosen ones returning inmore than just his dreams,
impossibly pushing theirfleshless arms through the water

(42:39):
, their skulls breaking thefrothing surface, their
disarticulated skeletons clatter, clambering onto the pebbles,
waiting to be found by fishermenand beachcombers, waiting to be
named to name him.
His frustration sours toforeboding, like clotting milk
making him wretch.
It's a wholly unfamiliarsensation.

(42:59):
He can't bear the way itsquirms in his belly like elvers
, weakening him.
In the mirror he seeks his owneyes then lurches from what now
cowers there whimpering in themuddy green.
The urge to take another nowshivers impotently beneath a
pressing dread.
Won't be prized free.
Is he broken, lost?
He can't fathom what possesseshim to leave the car, descend to

(43:22):
the beach, the very place ofhis unraveling.
The pebbles cleared ofaccusatory bones are silvered
and pearled by a sharp moon.
He feels lured here, as iftempted by a blood-red apple, a
blood-red kiss tainted by salt.
In a way he believes that byreturning to the churn and chop
of the ocean he'll learn why itschemes against him.

(43:43):
It's a mild night, he's weary,sweat, sour, and the shushing
water is a dark temptation.
He kicks off his shoes, presseshis toes into the yielding sand.
He closes his eyes, remembersthe last time he felt that cold
squelch, winter white skin,silky as the heart of shells,

(44:04):
limpid brown eyes, diamond tearsquivering on lashes, blue rope
parting under his blade, with asound like sensual breath.
When he fails to become arousedat the memory, he realizes the
breadth of his anxiety.
He remains flaccid, letting outa cry, mournful as a seabird.
He wades into the wavelets,watches them break like pale

(44:28):
necks where they impact hisshins.
The water tugs at his ankles,then his calves he imagines it
is another of his chosen onesreturned to him trying to snag
him with a fleshless hand.
He isn't soothed by the chillwater nor the expanse of
star-filled sky.
He only feels a gnawing insidehim.

(44:48):
A devouring Anxiety becomesfear.
He's rocked by it.
Then he's yanked hard, asensation like claws digging
into his flesh and dragged todeeper water.
He rolls and thrashes like acrocodile, coughing, choking on
vile froth.
He tries to swim, grabbing atthe water with numbing arms.

(45:08):
He tries, kicking.
He has no strength.
He's truly flaccid.
The grip is relentless, likerope around his ankles, thin his
thighs.
Screaming only invites frigidbrine into his body, an
excruciating pain like boilingvinegar in his lungs.
Spent and fully submerged, hesees terrifying dogfish circling

(45:31):
like subaquatic vultures,snapping with needle teeth.
A black certainty intrudes onhis consciousness he's drowning,
even in a semi-delirious state.
He sees the irony in that, ashe claws at the last residues of
air, the dogfish bolt away andin their place madness comes.
For surely the diaphanous womanappearing before him is a

(45:53):
hallucination, an artifact ofhis diminishing brain.
Yet she seems unbearably real.
Something in the furious glareof her blue eyes, like
impossible gas flames.
He feels his own eyes crackle,shatter, a brutal shiver of
sharks grin eagerly behind.
The woman promised thatdrowning will merely be a part

(46:14):
of his torment.
This is to be his sentence,delivered by this judge of the
ocean, a woman in washed denimrobes, a wig of brown and green,
crowned in shells.
A delicate plaited bracelet offaded blue strings encircles her
wrist.
She smiles like a beautifulmonster, drifts aside to present
him to the executioners.

(46:35):
When he hears her speak, hervoice is so cruel in its
whispery kindness, you belonghere.
Then she's spinning away andretribution comes fully, with
teeth ripping and bones snapping.
And he knows there'll benothing left to wash ashore.
Coraline, I swim and I rest.

(46:57):
I never surface during daylight.
I am of the salty darkness now,a darkness teeming with color.
I sometimes rise to look at thesky.
When it's sequined with stars,months pass Longer.
Then a shoal of tabby catmackerel whips aside a blanket
of sand reveals what slumbersbeneath.
I run my fingers across theskull, fill the smooth hole.

(47:21):
He doesn't belong here.
My duty is to give him thepeace he's been denied the
justice.
I summon the cuckoo rays andtogether we take him up, up, up.

Speaker 2 (47:35):
There's a lot of symbolism going on here.

Speaker 1 (47:38):
I really love this story and it also feels
incredibly unique compared to alot you know.
In this mix of 11 stories, itfeels very unique, which I
really really love.
Shall I share my interpretationof this story?
Sure, okay, I don't want tolead anybody's thoughts on it,
but this is my interpretation.
The story starts with thiswoman who has taken her own life
in the bay of the ocean right,yes, near town, port town.

(48:01):
Then, throughout the story,other women or people who are
being killed by this serialkiller.
Their bodies are being dumpedand she's trying to save them or
bring them to shore, help thembe found, and then, at the end,
the actual evil killer ends upin the water and she sort of
helps bring him below the depthsforever.
But it was very poetic andbeautifully read by our friend

(48:23):
Sarah.
Indeed, it was.

Speaker 2 (48:25):
As always, Sarah Luke does great.

Speaker 1 (48:27):
Sarah Luke's voice is just.
It's one of those moments Iknow I've said this all the time
, but I feel like it was when Iread the story I was like
Sarah's voice.
We need Sarah's voice for thisstory.

Speaker 2 (48:35):
If Sarah was British, she'd be unstoppable.

Speaker 1 (48:38):
Yeah, she's almost unstoppable now.
So this story was written by JPRalph and it was previously
published in print in Sand, saltand Blood, a charity anthology
with Sliced Up Press in 2022.

Speaker 2 (48:51):
It's a great name.

Speaker 1 (48:52):
And I'm going to leave all of the links and the
website for JP Ralph so that youcan follow her work and be up
to date on when the next thingcomes out.

Speaker 2 (49:01):
Fantastic.

Speaker 1 (49:02):
Absolutely beautiful, haunting, poetic, incredible
work.
Thank you so much for sharingit with us.
We have a poem next.

Speaker 2 (49:10):
Oh boy.

Speaker 1 (49:11):
I love this one.
Ah jeez, we're just going toplay the tape and then we'll
come back and talk about it, asI suppose we always do.

Speaker 3 (49:21):
The Widow's Cottage, written by Curb Newton, read by
Charles C Cook.

Speaker 4 (49:30):
The cottage sat on the edge of a cliff above the
swirling sea.
It was made of stone and cedarand was once the home of a lady
by the name of Merrily.
Merrily was married to afisherman who left one early
morn, never to return.
A sudden storm was blamed.
A wake was held at the edge ofthe sea for all who lost their

(49:52):
lives that day.
For years Merrily lived aloneand it was said her voice was
heard talking now and again asif someone else were in the
cottage, though no one was everseen, and when the fisherman's
widow disappeared one day, neverto return, it was commonly
believed that she had foundherself cold comfort in the arms

(50:15):
of the swirling sea.
The widow's cottage, as it'scalled now, has been empty ever
since.
Death is always the deterrentwhen prospective buyers overhear
the rumors that still persist.
It is said that late at nightone can see candlelight flicker
behind the shuttered windowboards and wet footprints have

(50:37):
been discovered leading to andfrom the door.
For most, it's just as well,and the cottage should be left
alone above the somber, swirlingsea.
No one can call it home becauseit still belongs to.

Speaker 1 (50:53):
Merrilee.
Okay, so let me just say I'm soimpressed that this is such a
short poem and we get abeautiful ghost story.
We get the somber angst oflosing of somebody drowning in
this storm, which I think we canall kind of call us back to
other literature references.
It's a good romantization ofdeath by drowning.
There you go and we get thislike into the arms of her lover

(51:16):
of the sea, which I just love,that personification of the
ocean.

Speaker 2 (51:20):
Sounds like a novel title.

Speaker 1 (51:21):
Yeah, in the arms of the lover of her sea.
What was it In the arms of hersea, in the arms of her lover?

Speaker 2 (51:29):
the sea.
Yes, that's it Exactly.
It's a three sentence longtitle.

Speaker 1 (51:33):
Yes, snappy.

Speaker 2 (51:35):
However, there was mention of wet footprints.

Speaker 1 (51:38):
Yep.

Speaker 2 (51:39):
And wet footprints are very hard to make.

Speaker 1 (51:42):
That's true.
I know from experience.

Speaker 2 (51:44):
Yes, your feature film which comes out.
Probably it's already out bythis time.
The series is done.
There's a shot of wetfootprints.

Speaker 1 (51:52):
And I mean that's generous.

Speaker 2 (51:53):
It was supposed to be a shot of a wet floor.
They don't look like wetfootprints at all.

Speaker 1 (51:57):
It's hard to pull off without a, without like
glycerin, you know.

Speaker 2 (52:00):
How dare you?
I was about to tell you mymovie tricks.

Speaker 1 (52:02):
Yeah, well, you already told them to me.

Speaker 2 (52:03):
Yep.
Well, that's the trickeverybody you make them out of
glycerin.

Speaker 1 (52:07):
Now, we know Too little, too late.

Speaker 2 (52:08):
I just did another movie that had wet ghost
footprints.
They outsmarted us and yeah,that's the trick.

Speaker 1 (52:13):
So Kurt Newton's poetry has appeared in numerous
publications and anthologies,including Amazing Stories, space
and Time, eye to the Telescope,love Letters to Poe and
Spectral Realms.
His collection Songs of theUnderland was recently published
by Raven's Quoth Press and youcan follow him at Kirk D Newton
on Twitter, instagram, and wewill also link his Blue Sky, his

(52:37):
Facebook, again, so that youcan stay totally up to date and
support him when his next workcomes out.
And, of course, the dreamyvoice behind this poem is our
friend John C Cook of the Fidopodcast, if you are not yet
familiar with the Fido podcast,which has been on a bit of a
hiatus, but there is still astunning library of stories that
John has read and narrated justbeautifully for you to dive

(53:01):
into.
So I cannot recommend the Fidopodcast enough, truly from the
bottom of my heart.
But without further ado, andspeaking of Poe, we have another
poem.

Speaker 2 (53:11):
Is it by Poe?

Speaker 3 (53:16):
Dream within a dream, written by Edgar Allan Poe,
read by Michael Glosser.

Speaker 8 (53:25):
Red-eyed Michael Glossier, take this kiss upon
the brow.
And in parting from you nowthus much, let me avow you are
not wrong.
Who deem that my days have beena dream.
Yet if hope has flown away in anight or in a day, in a vision
or in none, is it therefore theless gone?
All that we see or seem is buta dream within a dream.

(53:49):
I stand amid the roar of asurf-tormented shore and I hold
within my hand grains of thegolden sand.
How few yet.
How they creep through myfingers to the deep while I weep
.
While I weep, oh God, can I notgrasp them with a tighter clasp

(54:09):
?
Oh God, can I not save one fromthe pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem buta dream within a dream?

Speaker 1 (54:21):
So this poem was read to us by our friend Michael
Crosa, who dedicates this toLucas.

Speaker 2 (54:27):
Which Lucas.

Speaker 1 (54:28):
I think a Lucas that you maybe don't know, Alan.

Speaker 2 (54:30):
Oh, I thought that was a very cute seaside poem.

Speaker 1 (54:33):
I love the imagery that Poe drums up of trying to
grasp and hold and count thesand and not being able to
contain it, especially when awave comes, it feels, you know,
like such an interesting way totalk about helplessness.

Speaker 2 (54:46):
Yeah, you need a bucket.

Speaker 1 (54:53):
You need a bucket.
We also have a deep dive from afew years ago on this podcast
into the history, the life ofEdgar Allan Poe.
Maybe we also had a multi-partlunatics library then, actually,
but we have a bunch of Poestories that were narrated for
us by all of our friends,including Michael Krosa, so
please go check that out.
It's one of it's still one ofmy favorite topics that we've
ever dove into.

Speaker 2 (55:09):
You think we had a multi-part library back then
because you made a whole to-doabout this is the first one.

Speaker 1 (55:14):
Yeah, but it kind of doesn't count because it was all
public domain stories, sonobody submitted anything.

Speaker 2 (55:21):
I see.

Speaker 1 (55:21):
But Michael Krosa, our very talented friend,
Michael Krosa, from PodNugaPodcast Network and my part of
town, Chattanooga.
He's an incredibly talentedpodcaster and voice actor and
friend and we're very gratefulfor him to send this story to us
to be part of this.
All right, Alan, we have twomore stories.

Speaker 2 (55:42):
Okay, here's the next .
Okay, here's the next.

Speaker 9 (55:56):
The Sea Took Our Names.
Written by JR Santos, read byAvi Dodger, domingos clutched
the harpoon in a desperate grip.
It was a long and clumsy weaponfor self-defense because it was
never intended for that role.
He thought back to his home onan island from the Azores
archipelago.
It had been blessed with greenhills and, of course, a

(56:16):
plentiful sea.
Neptune's realm is a beautifulthing to watch from the comfort
of one's home.
Unlike where he found himselfthen, on the half-sunk whaler,
domingos did not know how tobuild one or repair one, but he
knew enough that he could tellthis was going to be the ship's
grave.
Soon the sea would claim thebroken hull, so barnacles and

(56:38):
corals could grow around thewooden bones.
He stood alone, praying to thesaints that seemed deaf to his
pleas.
Domingos waited, but no angelscame to carry him home.
There was only the sea andwhatever waited in those dark
waters.
Night devoured the ship as hekept falling in and out of sleep
, thirsty and hungry, theharpoon in his hands keeping him

(57:02):
from falling forward Silently.
He muttered a plea.
He begged that God might guidehis arm one last time.
The ship had set sail and madean easy going at first all
sunlight and soothing sea breeze.
Sometimes the men had to fendfor themselves, but the hunt was
called out of need.
The fear of going hungry andcold in the coming winter was

(57:25):
too great.
They sailed, men with deeplines and dark tans, men molded
by the sun and wind.
As for the whaling ship, it hadno proper name.
It was not a common practiceand in fact it could not be
truly unnamed or it would not beallowed to sail.
So it was in that half-gestthat the name agreed upon by all

(57:47):
was that of Sen-Nom, whichmeant no name.
Captain, why not name the ship?
The captain was an old sea wolf, half his face pulled down like
a hood, his age made manifestby folds of skin, sagged muscle.
He seemed to always be stuck ina perpetual playful wink.
All things are lost at sea men,ships and their names.

(58:12):
We shall have no name to lose.
Let the waters have nothing totake from us but our lives, so
baptized.
It remained the no name, evenafter the old man had been lost
to that cold, cruel mistress.
Time moved on with the tides.
Now now, shouted one of the men, an old hand, his eyes wide and

(58:35):
his face red from the sun.
Domingos steadied his aim inreply, or as much as one could
in a rocking ship taking deepbreaths could.
In a rocking ship, taking deepbreaths, with the rehearsed
practice of many other throws.
He launched the harpoon, a ropetied to the end that others

(58:55):
would hold onto so they couldpull the beast to them.
It hit the target and the whale, already wounded, stuck by
another harpoon before, made alast-ditch effort to escape.
Every man went for the sturdyropes which the women of the
fishing village had hewntogether.
There was a rhythm to thisdance Heave ho, heave ho,
tugging of the ropes to draw thewounded critter nearer.

(59:18):
This was a small one compared toones Domingos often saw in the
distance.
Those had tails and humps whichmade great splashes whenever
they emerged or submerged.
But it was for the best if thewhalers kept themselves humble.
Larger whales were a riskierbet and if they were caught in a
storm there was a higher riskof having to lose precious cargo

(59:39):
.
As for the one they reeled in,it bled and cried until they
quickly butchered the creatureon the open sea to better
preserve and carry its fat andsalted remains.
They would avoid eating themeat if they could To feed
themselves.
Would risk starving their ownchildren.
Do you think the Lord acceptsthem into their kingdom?
It was a strange question forDomingos to ask, and only

(01:00:03):
Alameda had been around toanswer.
Domingos to ask, and onlyAlameda had been around to
answer.
Only God knows.
His mysteries are as deep asthe seas.
We can only hope the tide willtake us into his arms.
It was to be expected.
There were no easy answers inthis life, even though they
might be simple ones.
Their wailing proceeded withoutinterruptions for a couple of

(01:00:23):
days, after which they felt thewinds had changed and knew they
had to make their way back.
It's the strangest thing,alameda commented, that fog over
there.
Do you see it?
Domingo saw, and no sooner didthe wind carry the sound.
It was like a whale song, butfull of distortion.
At the heart of the rollinggray, a dark shape moved Soon.

(01:00:46):
All the men saw that greatshape.
Together they acted as onechanging course, turning back.
The wind that carried the fogcertainly would carry them
easily.
Also, it was not meant to beAll felt a premonition of
horrors to come.
So, by any means necessary, theship was made to sail as fast as

(01:01:07):
they could muster.
They failed, for it was an oldship, too heavily mended, like
their clothes and tools were.
As the fog soon overtook them,the whale song became so loud
every man covered their ears.
Domingos prayed to himself hisown prayer prayer so that the
sea would not claim him that day.

(01:01:28):
It was all so disorienting thateven after the cry ceased and
the men recovered their wits,they had no hope of knowing how
far they had sailed in that mistor in which direction.
They dropped the sad, rustyanchor and voted wait, rather
than to risk becoming lost inthe weird haze.
On moved the tides.

(01:01:50):
How long have we been like this?
I don't know, alameda, I don'tknow.
I fear we may die of thirst.
Devils, take me man.
Not a breeze or a tide.
The water flat and the fogceaseless.
The men felt trapped in limboand were beginning to go mad.
They whispered in their sleep.

(01:02:11):
Some cried as if to imitate thesound that had haunted them.
That was when Domingos foundthe captain was gone.
No point crying his name.
He must have been taken by themermaids.
Forgive me if I do not laugh,alameda.
The men looked at each otherwith distrust.
An oil lamp allowed them to seewhat little they could With the

(01:02:31):
blubber.
They could make fuel to keepthe lights and heat, but that
had to be managed with utmostcare.
Their survival and theirfamilies depended on it.
The depths were cold and dark,but never silent.
They were full of song forthose who could hear.
Domingos woke up to the rain andwas quick to drink it, and then

(01:02:52):
attempted to collect it afterhe felt sated Sweet water, even
wind.
He stopped realizing the shipwas moving, then ran to find
that the unthinkable hadhappened.
Someone broke loose the anchorand smashed the till to pieces.
We're at the mercy of the windsnow.
Alameda looked tired but busycollecting water, focusing on

(01:03:15):
what he could control.
Domingos realized then some ofthe fog had lifted, but all he
saw around him were the grayskies and the gray water.
Still, the sheets of rain thatdrenched them both were as
waving curtains.
None of this makes sense.
We should all gather and find away home.
Alameda laughed bitter, thenfell on his ass.

(01:03:36):
Yes, let us all come together.
To me, my brave ones, to me.
He shouted like a madman,laughed and cried as Domingos
looked around them expectingsomeone to offer help, but none
did.
They were alone on the whaler.
Something moved beneath thetides, an unseen doom.

(01:03:56):
The two survivors shutthemselves inside the ship,
barred the doors with all theycould find and hunched away from
each other like corneredanimals.
They managed their rationscarefully and took turns
sleeping.
I heard noises outside, peoplemoving.
I think Steps Domingo sat bythe door and knew his friend was
awake.
Also, as Alameda breathedfaster when the noises occurred.

(01:04:19):
Ghosts, the wind, nothing.
Don't let it drive you mad.
I know the sound of wind andthe sound of footsteps.
I am yet to meet a ghost.
Fine, you're dreaming then?
Alameda answered sullenly,turning his back.
You're supposed to be the onewho's asleep?
Good then, I'm dreaming abouthow annoying you are.

(01:04:42):
There was a pause and then bothmen laughed, a celebration of
the life in them.
Still, the mist dispelled.
The devil looked away for amere moment.
Domingos woke up and sawdaylight.
Feeling pain, he touched thesore nape of his head to find it
wet with blood, his throat dry.
He tried to call his friend butrealized he could not remember

(01:05:04):
the name he was trying to call.
Call his friend, but realizedhe could not remember the name
he was trying to call.
He tried to chase it in hismind but found nothing.
Even the face of the man wasblurry, with details like the
nose and the eyes shiftingaround.
Domingos began to worry then, ashe attempted to recall
something, anything important tohim, only to fail completely.
Searching the ship, he foundthe only weapon he could rely on

(01:05:26):
that hadn't been broken, rustedor taken away by the sea A
harpoon with words he could notread but which awoke in him the
memories of their meaning.
He held to his harpoon andprayed for strength While he was
gone.
The ship had been found, hisfood was gone and all the clay
pots that might once have helddrinkable water were smashed to

(01:05:48):
pieces.
He began to recall that he haddreamt, strangely, of a great
leviathan that sang a whale songand moved through mist.
Possessed with fear, the whalerlooked around him dismayed.
He had the oil lamp still theglass cracked but still
functional, and more blubberthan he could carry, flammable.

(01:06:09):
At the thought of flame,domingos imagined a great column
of fire, a great signal pyre tobring over other ships, to
bring rescue.
Perhaps with fire he couldclaim all that had been lost.
He set a great blaze in themiddle of the ship.
He refused to sleep, standinglike an ancient hunter guarding
his encampment.

(01:06:29):
Night returned in its palechariot and along with it the
song and the mist, domingo stoodcloser to the water, nearly
falling overboard from weakness.
Harpoon in hand, he waited togreet the monster monster.
As the wordless song lulled himinto a waking dream, he readied
his weapon, pulled back his armand waited, and waited and

(01:06:53):
waited.
Fire and smoke rose higherthrough the mist to the heavens.
Tides and winds turned thegears of the world.
Morning followed night and themist was gone and Domingos gone
with it.
His harpoon left behindcreaking.
The ship drifted away like adream.

Speaker 2 (01:07:14):
Well, this was another fantastic tale of
harpooning.

Speaker 1 (01:07:19):
I knew you were going to like this, because you're a
big Moby Dick guy.

Speaker 2 (01:07:22):
I love it.
Yes, yeah, but I love a goodwhale whaling tale, sure, and
there's not enough of them, infact, I I can't even name a
second one there's certainlyothers, but anyway name one the
sea took our names oh, cheating,I mean any whaling tale is fun.
I love just the the, the manversus the beasts, yes, with the

(01:07:43):
little boats and just a pointystick, that's cool.

Speaker 1 (01:07:45):
Very primal.
Yeah, I think again.
Jr Santos has been a constantcontributor to Lunatics Radio
Hour.

Speaker 2 (01:07:51):
What a guy.

Speaker 1 (01:07:52):
He's very talented.
Yeah, we're always so thrilledto be able to feature his work
and I really love this story.
I think it's one of his beststories and has such a beautiful
plot and subtext and I wasquite moved by it actually.

Speaker 2 (01:08:04):
Any tale of man versus large beast big fan.

Speaker 1 (01:08:13):
You're a simple guy.
Huh yeah, I am.
There was no poetry in this one.

Speaker 2 (01:08:14):
I thought it was poetic.
In its nature it was poetic,but JR Santos is a straight
shooter, I see, you know.

Speaker 1 (01:08:18):
Yeah, that's your interpretation.
This was also performed by ourfriend Avi Dobkin, and I've said
it before, I'll say it againwhen you have a great old-timey
piece of literature or old-timey, inspired, avi's your guy.

Speaker 2 (01:08:29):
He is, and this case I don't think it was necessarily
old-timey.

Speaker 1 (01:08:32):
But it was inspired Like it was set, not in modern
times.
You don't go out and harpoonwhales.
Now it does Talk about illegalhunting.

Speaker 2 (01:08:42):
It does become elevated with a historic
perspective.
Yes, yes, absolutely.
What do you mean?
Illegal hunting?

Speaker 1 (01:08:48):
You're talking about the eel earlier, the conger eel.
Yeah, I don't think most peopleare allowed to go out and hunt
whales, unless you're inindigenous communities nowadays,
right.

Speaker 2 (01:08:57):
No, but this was sure .
Wait.
Can indigenous communitiesstill hunt whales?

Speaker 1 (01:09:01):
Maybe I think so.

Speaker 2 (01:09:02):
Seems still mean.

Speaker 1 (01:09:03):
I think there's certain animals perhaps, but
like way up in, like you know,Northern Alaska or places like
that, I think.

Speaker 2 (01:09:09):
Can you imagine if an indigenous community just like
goes to SeaWorld and startsthrowing harpoons?
That would be pretty wild.
That would be so mean, unlessthey'd go after the
administrators.

Speaker 1 (01:09:19):
Yeah, that's the way to do it, so you can follow our
friend JR Santos on Twitter andBlue Sky, both found at CS
Skeleton.
Again, we're such big fans ofhis work and there will be more
to come from him, so, withoutfurther ado, we have a finale
story.
Shall we?

Speaker 3 (01:09:43):
Yes, the Sea Witch, written by Aaron Bryant, read by
Daniel.

Speaker 6 (01:09:51):
Roberts.
On dark and stormy nights, theSea Witch felt particularly
restless.
Her cave on the beach was smalland not up to her standards.
Thalassa looked at her bed withan old, worn-out blanket.
Then, at her side table withone broken leg, it was propped
up by a small crate that hadwashed up after a storm.

(01:10:13):
Her mirror was cracked and shefrowned at the fractured image.
Her hair was a dirty blonde andhung stringy and flat well
beyond her shoulders.
A smudge of cave dirt was onher right cheek.
She used the sleeve of hergreen tunic to wipe it up.
It was time for an upgrade.

(01:10:35):
It was time for a shipwreck.
She hadn't prepared for aterrible storm in years.
It took a lot of energy, butwhen you needed supplies, you
needed supplies.
She walked out to the darkbeach and stood in the cold rain
that beat down.

(01:10:55):
She smiled.
It really was the perfect night.
She felt the power like atickle in her stomach at first.
Then she called it up from hercore until it culminated into
more and more power.
Finally, a ball of lightappeared in her hand and she

(01:11:17):
sent it skyward.
The storm's intensity picked uptwofold.
Lightning cracked across thesky and booming thunder answered
the call.
The sea responded withferocious, capping waves and
then, like a mouth, lapped thesand away from the beach into

(01:11:38):
its dark belly.
The waters hissed and crashed.
They grew so tall that anythingcaught in their path would have
no choice but to be swept awayor sucked in.
A bright light from alighthouse in the distance shone
out to the sea and onto astruggling ship.
It was tossed around back andforth like a small toy as the

(01:12:03):
waves brought the ship closer.
She could see the men on boardstruggling with ropes, sails and
steering.
Come to me.
She whispered in the wind,feeling her power dance across
the soapy, churned water andwild waves to find them Like

(01:12:24):
fingers.
The power grabbed up the shipand started to pull it down into
the dark, unkind water.
She laughed, a very evil laughthat came straight out of her
belly and made her smile withdelight.
She watched intensely as theship was sucked down.

(01:12:45):
She watched intensely as theship was sucked down.
After it disappeared she sat onthe beach Waiting for the
debris and items to wash ontoshore.
It would all come to her, noextra expense of power needed.
She had not minded living in herbleak cave for the last fifty
years Because she was in aterrible slump.

(01:13:08):
Being immortal did that to youevery now and again.
She had spent many dayssleeping and complaining about
her life.
The food tasted bland.
The night seemed so dull.
The night seemed so dull.
The townspeople had become abore.
She hadn't even been in themood to harass them.

(01:13:31):
The locals had probablyforgotten about her.
Soon that would all change.
She would claim the town backand find the best house to live
in and eat and drink to herheart's content.
She could look however shefancied.
She could be a beautiful bustyblonde or a sultry brunette.

(01:13:56):
She had taken so many formsover the centuries that she
often forgot what she actuallylooked like.
Finally, the first boards anddebris started to wash up on the
shore.
She walked over with schoolgirlGiddy to take her prizes.
A chest full of gold andjewelry tickled her fancy.

(01:14:19):
She had to step on two dead mento get over to it.
But it was worth opening thechest and delighting in her
prize, her riches, other itemslike a barrel of wine and fancy
clothes landed at her feet.
It must have been one of thequeen's ships.

(01:14:40):
The last present was a surprise.
A very handsome man with tanskin and blonde hair came in
with a wave.
He moaned and slowly opened hiseyes.
She squatted and offered a hand.
He took it slowly as he spatsome water out of his mouth that

(01:15:02):
he had coughed up.
She quickly changed her form tothat of a young maiden.
He looked up at her with hisunique gray eyes with thanks.
He stood and asked her how isit that you stand on this beach
after an awful storm?
She replied sweetly.

(01:15:22):
I was out for an evening strollwhen the storm struck.
Then I saw a ship torn apart inthe storm and rushed to the
beach.
He then asked how is it that ayoung maiden would go walking in
the night without an escort?
His question seemed suspiciousbut she answered.

(01:15:43):
I have lived here all of my lifeand know the people in town.
I have nothing to be afraid of.
So you know William the baker.
He asked More questions.
She thought, feeling annoyedyes, william is the only baker
that I buy from.
He smiled a strange smile andwalked closer to her.

(01:16:05):
She flipped her hair over hershoulder, matching in steps, and
smiled seductively.
Now they were but a hand'sdistance apart.
How is it that you do not knowthat William the Baker died
twenty-six years ago?
Startled by his response, shetook a step back, but he grabbed
her hand.
It's because you've been asleepfor too long, he said.

(01:16:29):
As he jabbed a dagger deep intoher chest.
She grunted from the force andthen put her hand where the
blood flowed out quickly.
She fell to her knees as herpower left her drained.
As she lay helpless, dying onthe damp sand, she noticed that
the shabby clothes of the sailorhad changed into a long black

(01:16:53):
dress.
Your reign is over, you, oldcroon.
Now it's my turn, said the newsea witch.
Thalassa faded into nothingmore than a memory as the new
sea witch walked into the cave.
Now let's see how we canupgrade these digs, she said.

(01:17:13):
Her laugh echoed into thebeautiful dark night.

Speaker 2 (01:17:20):
Well, this was a good story of gender reversal.

Speaker 1 (01:17:23):
I like the classic fairy tale vibes of this story.

Speaker 2 (01:17:27):
Oh for sure, and you know you also.
You swap around who's yourprotagonist.

Speaker 1 (01:17:31):
Yeah, which is great, or who's your antagonist?
I mean, it depends on whoyou're rooting for.

Speaker 2 (01:17:35):
I guess you're you're , you're following an anti-hero,
that's right.
I don't know, I don't know howthese things?

Speaker 1 (01:17:39):
work.
You know, I don't know, I'mokay to it's and become the
witch.

Speaker 2 (01:17:41):
Yeah, so it's layers on layers, yeah.

Speaker 1 (01:17:47):
It's good clear rules to follow.

Speaker 2 (01:17:48):
Yes, yeah.

Speaker 1 (01:17:50):
Which we like.

Speaker 2 (01:17:51):
We like rules.

Speaker 1 (01:17:52):
So this story was written by Erin Bryant, who is
an artist, actor and animallover.
She thrives on adventure,whether it be through travel or
in a captivating novel.
She is the mom of one daughter,two dogs, one rabbit, one cat
and a happy pot-bellied pignamed Hamlet.
She's living the dream.

Speaker 2 (01:18:10):
No wonder she's writing stories about witches.

Speaker 1 (01:18:11):
Yes, she's truly living the dream.
Thank you so much to Erin forsubmitting this story to us very
long ago, and I was so thrilledthat we were able to feature it
in this, and our friend DanRoberts narrated this story and
did such a great job.

Speaker 2 (01:18:25):
So, as you could tell , dan is also British.
So another another flawlessnarration that was just elevated
by the accent.

Speaker 1 (01:18:34):
I am just such a fan of Dan Like when I thought, oh,
this is a fairy tale type story,I again thought of Dan, because
he has this fun, jovial andhe's not afraid to take some
risks as a narrator, which Ithink is what we needed.

Speaker 2 (01:18:47):
He's got fast and loose diction.
Hell yeah, as do we.
What are you talking about?
Everything here is fact-checkedlike 500 times.

Speaker 1 (01:18:54):
Yes, well, that brings us to the end Cool Of our
five-part series on oceanhorror, and there's just so much
more that we could get into.
And again, I found so many bitsand bobs in different stories
or different mythologies and I'mlike, oh, we should have talked
about that.
So I am going to be filling insome of the blanks on
lunaticsprojectcom in the formof articles and essays, and also

(01:19:16):
on all of our social mediahandles.
I'm going to be releasing someextra videos with visuals to
some of the things we talkedabout, or covering some of't
that didn't make it into thisseries in those places.
So follow us on TikTok, onYouTube all of those good places
.
We are almost everywhere.

Speaker 2 (01:19:32):
I'm just excited.
It's time to move on to spookyfall.

Speaker 1 (01:19:35):
I know we have ridden the summer waves as far as we
possibly could.
I just I think I've said thisbefore, but I'm really into
seasonal horror this year andlooking at like summer horror
versus fall horror versus winterhorror, and I am very, very
excited for what we have teed upgoing into the end of September
and into October and beyond.
So get ready for some seasonalchoices, seasonal curation of

(01:19:58):
topics coming your way.

Speaker 2 (01:19:59):
Well, I am also excited that we're now switching
into fall stuff, because I'vebeen doing nothing but watching
high seas horror movies for thelast few months or so.
So you know, with a brief diveinto the Alien franchise, which
I don't know if we're ever goingto do an episode on, but we
really should.
Among the more notable, I amglad that I watched Jaws number

(01:20:20):
two.

Speaker 1 (01:20:21):
Tell us.

Speaker 2 (01:20:22):
It's Jaws number one, but worse.
Okay, it's the same.
Everything Classic, studiosequel, okay.
And they try to make the sharklook real scary by in the
beginning they burn his face.

Speaker 1 (01:20:35):
Is it a different town or the same town?

Speaker 2 (01:20:38):
Same town.

Speaker 1 (01:20:38):
Different characters.

Speaker 2 (01:20:39):
Same characters.

Speaker 1 (01:20:40):
Like the same actors.

Speaker 2 (01:20:41):
Well, it's the same sheriff of, whatever his name is
Okay, got it and his wife.
She's there and their kid.
It's all about them.

Speaker 1 (01:20:48):
Got it, but it's worse.

Speaker 2 (01:20:50):
Yeah, it's way worse.

Speaker 1 (01:20:50):
What year did it?

Speaker 2 (01:20:51):
come out.
Who can say?
I mean, it looks very similarto the first one Got it.
With the difference of a lot ofmoney is still there, but, like
you can just tell, it justdoesn't have the magic.
Yeah, but the fact that theyhad to burn the shark's face to
make him look scary is hilarious.
Yeah, sharks are pretty scary.
They kind of defined the ideaof the toothy aquatic predator.

(01:21:15):
Sure, but you don't need toturn him into Freddy Krueger,
but they did.

Speaker 1 (01:21:20):
That's funny.
Yeah, Okay, Alan, I know thatyou've watched quite a bit of
ocean horror films, so what'syour favorite?
Like what stands out after youknow three months of deep diving
here.

Speaker 2 (01:21:31):
That's a great question.
We watched a lot, for somereason.
The one that I keep coming backto, though, is Mar Negro.
Oh, the Brazilian.

Speaker 1 (01:21:39):
I thought you were going to say open water too.

Speaker 2 (01:21:40):
The whole open water franchise is surprisingly
memorable, yeah.
However, mar Negro is just sucha unique film.
It's Brazilian aquatic themeddead alive.
Yeah, very cool, with all theblood, all the gore, all the
camp, and it's just, it's ahilarious movie.
That's really disgusting.

Speaker 1 (01:22:01):
Yeah, that's very fun .

Speaker 2 (01:22:02):
It's dead, alive.
It's amazing.

Speaker 1 (01:22:03):
Yeah.

Speaker 2 (01:22:04):
And there's a zombie whale.
Like how cool is that?
A giant zombie whale that comeson tour.

Speaker 1 (01:22:08):
It's hard to beat a giant zombie whale.

Speaker 2 (01:22:10):
I mean, you can do it , but this is a good one.

Speaker 1 (01:22:13):
Yeah, amazing.

Speaker 2 (01:22:14):
What's yours?

Speaker 1 (01:22:16):
I didn't watch quite as many films as you did, but I
have to say I'm quite I wasquite happy to watch Jaws
finally.

Speaker 2 (01:22:23):
Oh yeah.

Speaker 1 (01:22:23):
I had never actually seen it before, which I know is
a bit of a sin for someone whohas a horror podcast.
So it's good.
It's a great movie, yeah, sothat was pretty good.
I'm trying to think of ifthere's any other ones, but I
think Jaws was really thestandout film for me.
Sure, a lot of rewatches, sothat was a new one For sure.
Yeah, that's fair.

(01:22:47):
Thank you guys so much for beinghere.
This has been an absolute blastand we had again been planning
on this series for years and itfeels really great that it
finally all came together.
Thank you to all of the writersand narrators and research
helpers and all of our friendsand models and, you know,
designers and people that helpedus put this series together in
a big way.
If you don't yet have yourHorror on the High Seas merch,
head to lunaticsprojectcom onmerch, check out our beautiful
design there and we have, uh,some spoiler merch up, actually,

(01:23:11):
for some of our fall themesalready.
Thank you all so much for beinghere.
This officially marks the endof summer horror and the
transition into spooky season,starting with next episode.
Stay well, we'll talk to yousoon.
Bye, episode.
Stay well, we'll talk to yousoon.
Bye, bye.

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Lunatics Library 41 - Ocean Horror Stories: Part 2

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.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}Lunatics Library 41 - Ocean Horror Stories: Part 2