April 23, 2025 • 14 mins
A cursed prince must attend a royal ball to choose a bride. He flees, only to find magic in the forest.
Allister Nelson is a poet and author whose work has appeared in Apex Magazine, The Showbear Family Circus, Eternal Haunted Summer, SENTIDOS: Revistas Amazonicas, Black Sheep: Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder, The Greyhound Journal, FunDead Publications' Gothic Anthology, POWER Magazine, Renewable Energy World, and many other venues. allisternelson.com
Photo by Rob Griffin on Unsplash
You can read "The Devil I Know" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Follow us on:
Instagram
Facebook
Bluesky
Substack
Allister Nelson is a poet and author whose work has appeared in Apex Magazine, The Showbear Family Circus, Eternal Haunted Summer, SENTIDOS: Revistas Amazonicas, Black Sheep: Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder, The Greyhound Journal, FunDead Publications' Gothic Anthology, POWER Magazine, Renewable Energy World, and many other venues. allisternelson.com
Photo by Rob Griffin on Unsplash
You can read "The Devil I Know" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Follow us on:
Bluesky
Substack
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:10):
Welcome to the Kaik Podcast, where the eerie, the mysterious,
and the spine chilling come alive in stories that linger
long after the last word is spoken. I'm your host,
Linda Gould, and tonight I'm reading The Devil I Know
by Alister Nelson. It's a fairy tale of sorts, of
(00:30):
many sorts, and what I mean by that is it's
a Gothic reimagining of Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella,
with a few other stories thrown in. In a kingdom
riding from within, a prince with a ghastly curse reluctantly
attends a ball to choose a bride. Rather than expose
(00:50):
his secret. He longs for a life where he can
be by himself. Tonight, can his wish come true? Alister
Nelson is a poet author whose work has appeared in
so many places including Eternal, Haunted, Summer Apex Magazine, Black Sheep,
Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder, and Fundad publications. You
(01:13):
can find more about Alistair at alisternelson dot com and
now dimber Lights. Settle in and prepare yourself for The
Devil I Know by Alister Nelson and Joy Old Wives
(01:34):
Tales go thus behind every man a monster, behind every
husband a beast, and roses become thorns in time, But
the curse of my egregious veins only ever comes at midnight,
turning me to a monster. Assuredly, Nurse fixes me potions
(01:57):
and poultices to mask the stench of my devilish rotting flesh.
Come supper, the court whispers that the crown Prince wears
a mask after I was scarred in war, and completely
covers my limbs in the finest of Parisian fabrics out
of a sense of Apollonian vanity, so as not to
let the inelegant son spoil my lily white flesh. Nurse
(02:21):
was the only one who knew who had been there.
When mother bargained with the devil to give her stillborn
son life, A drop of Satan's blood flowed through me,
and I had the Devil's gold hair to prove it.
I had been raised by the Council of Lords and
was now the de facto ruler after my coming of age,
(02:44):
with Marchioness Peters the head of state before I reached eighteen.
Marchioness Peters had been my father, the King's right hand
man before the king and queen had been killed on
a hunting trip, only five red claws left on earth,
each of their bare breasts with their torn shrouds like
a beer mound around my fainted form. I was twelve
(03:08):
the eve of the hunting accident, the only survivor, and
the maids always whispered that my teeth grew sharper by
the day after my parents perished. Tonight, Tonight I would
choose a queen. Nurse said it was the way of
kings to take a bride before assuming the throne, and
(03:30):
Marchioness Peters agreed. Prince Charming, who had won the Crusades
in battle against the Dragon of Claremont, who never revealed
his face beyond merry bright blue eyes peeping through my
heartiquin mask, would choose a noble woman to wed by
the stroke of midnight, and then a king, my father's birthright.
(03:57):
Pulk Retude, I thought, when my flesh turns to maggots
and mold each night, and I grow horns, claws, venom,
and wings, aren't I worth only dog meat? And so
a bride every mad's dream, But for a monster that
(04:18):
hungered for flesh. I was wary of women, their elegant
throats their breasts. The beast in me, unleashed each midnight,
would have even had his way with old nurse if I,
the aberrant prince, was not restrained and unchained with seven
(04:39):
lashings and bindings to my quarters each strike of the
twelfth hour. But this bride of mine would have to
know my secret. To share my bed, the bed of
a monster, and to bear us little beastlings. It would
be a treacherous arrangement. And I was half given to
(05:00):
a life of virginity and tax ledgers. Char It's time,
the ball nurse said, grinning wildly. She was the only
attendant I let serve me, the handmaiden of my mother
and my wet nurse who had taken the king and
Queen's deathbed secrets close to her breast. I buttoned my
(05:21):
blue suit and fanned out the starched coat tails. Hunger
rose in me, and not the dynastic kind, as I
thought of the feast of ladies, white necks that would
be available to partake of an eye alone, gleaming ivory throats,
cheeks of blush. Women always scared me, But now I
(05:46):
had to find a wife. I think I'm ready, I said,
my voice clear as a burbling brook. I stood six
foot five, towering like my blood father Lucifer. I arranged
my masks so had obscured all but my hair and eyes.
It was part of my facade by now, a way
to distance myself from commoners and noble folk alike. Only
(06:08):
Nan ever saw my handsome, angular face with lips like
cherries when the mask was off. Let's get this over with,
I said. Nan wished me luck, and I made my
way to the ball Martian asked. Peters was dressed in
a Tyrian purple suit and waistcoat. He avidly introduced me
(06:29):
to the up and coming maiden folk of the provinces
and London alike. But Buckingham was dull for a beast
like me. I craved Hern's woods, the women, their sense,
the flush of their cheeks was too much. I lasted
two hours without wanting to devour one blood and bone.
I excused myself and then hastened to the King's Wood,
(06:52):
where only I was allowed to roam, much less hunt.
Damn it, Peter, you couldn't even last till midnight. I
wept the change overtaking me. Aye, this hideous, rotting demon
came out. I prowled the river bank, half expecting Nimwae
(07:12):
to drag me to the watery depths. Out of shame
for Uther Pendragon's line. I was much more merlin a
Cambian than any prince charming the English made me out
to be. I fell asleep in a saint grotto to Mary,
it was my refuge. I could always feel the madonna
praying for me fervently in the cool, cavernous spring. It
(07:35):
had been a refuge of old doddering mother once she
had birthed a dead babe and given me life through
a pact with Satan. She was of the blood of Mellucinae,
and those women who knew how to summon the devil
in a pinch our line of webbed toes prove it.
I awoke to someone petting my rotten hind legs, the
(07:56):
fir matted, and then arranging the bloody mess of thin
meat slabs and black hair around my head. I growled, awakening,
thinking it a faye. But it was just a girl,
a girl in a blue dress that was tattered and
old and glass slippers. Are you cursed too, dear beast?
(08:20):
The strange girl asked, She was as lost as I.
Hair of gold, beautiful, with violet eyes and scars all
over her body. Do you know how torn my flesh
gets to be cursed to walk the world in glass heels,
How it digs into my bone just like your pendance
(08:43):
of rot? My father, Marchioness Peters, has hidden me away
in an attic all my life, replaced me with stepmother
and my stepsisters. I escaped. My fairy godmother said I
would find answers at this ball, but the guards saw
the tatters on me and would not let me in.
(09:04):
Are you not scared of me? Girl of glass? I
growled her touch soothing. I had never been touched by
a woman like this before, much less in my form
of the damned, A hellhound of rotting flesh and black
ragged wings. Hell goes with me. Don't you know that
fair beast Glass has no worth? At night I dream
(09:29):
of Hell of my bones turning to glass, my flesh
to ice. I freeze these damned things on my feet
they are shut in. What is your name, glass, girl, Cinderella?
Yours charm? I mean, uh, Peter, that's an odd name
(09:51):
for a hell beast, Peter, I like it, say Peter,
would you like to leave this grotto with me? I've
had it with all of London, telling my secret dreams
to mice and cheese. I'm a seamstress of some talent,
and you could be my guard dog. I'm afraid this
form will not last the night. I will no longer
(10:11):
be beast. I am supposed supposed to find a wife.
I hunt when I must eat flesh. Are you not scared?
I will eat you. Every thief and thief's wife I
have eaten have called me cursed, cur foul, mongrel, dog,
beast of hell. I devour them anyways, Huh. I have
(10:31):
splinters of glass for skin. They will sprout to pierce
your snout. My mother saw her reflection one day in
glass and boasted she was more beautiful than Lilith, the
ever pregnant Demonesse. So Lilith made me a child of glass,
born and sawing open mother's womb like a broken windowpane.
(10:51):
She died of the blood loss. No one will touch me.
They use cloth and gloves, But you, beast, Cinderella ran
her glassy sharp nails down my ridges. You can withstand me.
We talked all night and into the morning of our dreams,
our family, our despair. I finally admitted, over a bottle
(11:16):
of stolen Scotch, this vagabond Cinderella had in her skirts pocket,
that I was the prince now missing from the ball
and Lucifer's curse on me. Cinderella was kind, gentle. She
combed my bloody hair with her glass comb, and by
morning we kissed, And then we knew each other as
(11:39):
beast and woman, a carnal delight, her glass spinnerettes piercing
my bloody, knotted breast. We fell asleep under Mary's gaze
in the King's grotto by the spring. Then in the
quiet hours, we stole into the palace to bid Nurse
adieu give the throne to Marchioness Peters. I am off
(12:02):
to travel the world with my wife. Dear Nurse, I said,
Cinderella had broken my curse. Oh, I was still beast,
but I would never be disgusting man again. Oh, dear
charming Peter, I wish you well. You broke the curse
chaining you to frail humanity. You have found a girl
(12:25):
of the stained glass of Notre Dame. Nurse cried, hugging
me and my bride one last time. Cinderella smiled, a
glass spear in her hand, made of adamant. She mounted
my back and off into the autumnal morning. We speared
on thief roads and hanging grounds to haunt Herne's wood,
(12:46):
all of Europe, Africa and Asia, taking in sewing when
we needed to, killing when we were hungry, and we
had five glass wolf babes, a wild rambling brood. While
that was an interesting story, I love how the author
(13:08):
wove together characters and symbols from familiar fairy tales and
myths Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, the hunchback of more Dame,
even threads of Lucifer, Lilith and Melucin, and then transformed
them into something entirely new. The story doesn't just retell
(13:29):
old tales, it resurrects them in a darker, stranger form,
while still honoring the elements that we recognize. The ball,
the curse, the masked prince, the girl with glass slippers.
And then underneath all the magic, of course, there's something
deeply human at work. The Prince's shame is longing to
(13:50):
be seen and accepted, not in spite of the beast within,
but really because of it. I mean we all carry
part to ourselves that we believe are too dark, or
too strange or too broken to be loved right. But
sometimes in the most unexpected places, we find someone just
as strange, just as scarred, who sees us clearly and
(14:14):
then chooses to stay. So thank you so much, Alistair Nelson.
The Kai Don Kai has so many interesting stories from
every genre. Please subscribe to the podcast and check out
the substack to see comments by authors about their inspiration.
I also post art that I like any kind of
art on the various social media so pick your poison
(14:37):
and follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Blue Sky, or substack.
It's all in the episode description. Thank you so much
for listening today, See you next week.
Welcome to the Kaik Podcast, where the eerie, the mysterious,
and the spine chilling come alive in stories that linger
long after the last word is spoken. I'm your host,
Linda Gould, and tonight I'm reading The Devil I Know
by Alister Nelson. It's a fairy tale of sorts, of
(00:30):
many sorts, and what I mean by that is it's
a Gothic reimagining of Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella,
with a few other stories thrown in. In a kingdom
riding from within, a prince with a ghastly curse reluctantly
attends a ball to choose a bride. Rather than expose
(00:50):
his secret. He longs for a life where he can
be by himself. Tonight, can his wish come true? Alister
Nelson is a poet author whose work has appeared in
so many places including Eternal, Haunted, Summer Apex Magazine, Black Sheep,
Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder, and Fundad publications. You
(01:13):
can find more about Alistair at alisternelson dot com and
now dimber Lights. Settle in and prepare yourself for The
Devil I Know by Alister Nelson and Joy Old Wives
(01:34):
Tales go thus behind every man a monster, behind every
husband a beast, and roses become thorns in time, But
the curse of my egregious veins only ever comes at midnight,
turning me to a monster. Assuredly, Nurse fixes me potions
(01:57):
and poultices to mask the stench of my devilish rotting flesh.
Come supper, the court whispers that the crown Prince wears
a mask after I was scarred in war, and completely
covers my limbs in the finest of Parisian fabrics out
of a sense of Apollonian vanity, so as not to
let the inelegant son spoil my lily white flesh. Nurse
(02:21):
was the only one who knew who had been there.
When mother bargained with the devil to give her stillborn
son life, A drop of Satan's blood flowed through me,
and I had the Devil's gold hair to prove it.
I had been raised by the Council of Lords and
was now the de facto ruler after my coming of age,
(02:44):
with Marchioness Peters the head of state before I reached eighteen.
Marchioness Peters had been my father, the King's right hand
man before the king and queen had been killed on
a hunting trip, only five red claws left on earth,
each of their bare breasts with their torn shrouds like
a beer mound around my fainted form. I was twelve
(03:08):
the eve of the hunting accident, the only survivor, and
the maids always whispered that my teeth grew sharper by
the day after my parents perished. Tonight, Tonight I would
choose a queen. Nurse said it was the way of
kings to take a bride before assuming the throne, and
(03:30):
Marchioness Peters agreed. Prince Charming, who had won the Crusades
in battle against the Dragon of Claremont, who never revealed
his face beyond merry bright blue eyes peeping through my
heartiquin mask, would choose a noble woman to wed by
the stroke of midnight, and then a king, my father's birthright.
(03:57):
Pulk Retude, I thought, when my flesh turns to maggots
and mold each night, and I grow horns, claws, venom,
and wings, aren't I worth only dog meat? And so
a bride every mad's dream, But for a monster that
(04:18):
hungered for flesh. I was wary of women, their elegant
throats their breasts. The beast in me, unleashed each midnight,
would have even had his way with old nurse if I,
the aberrant prince, was not restrained and unchained with seven
(04:39):
lashings and bindings to my quarters each strike of the
twelfth hour. But this bride of mine would have to
know my secret. To share my bed, the bed of
a monster, and to bear us little beastlings. It would
be a treacherous arrangement. And I was half given to
(05:00):
a life of virginity and tax ledgers. Char It's time,
the ball nurse said, grinning wildly. She was the only
attendant I let serve me, the handmaiden of my mother
and my wet nurse who had taken the king and
Queen's deathbed secrets close to her breast. I buttoned my
(05:21):
blue suit and fanned out the starched coat tails. Hunger
rose in me, and not the dynastic kind, as I
thought of the feast of ladies, white necks that would
be available to partake of an eye alone, gleaming ivory throats,
cheeks of blush. Women always scared me, But now I
(05:46):
had to find a wife. I think I'm ready, I said,
my voice clear as a burbling brook. I stood six
foot five, towering like my blood father Lucifer. I arranged
my masks so had obscured all but my hair and eyes.
It was part of my facade by now, a way
to distance myself from commoners and noble folk alike. Only
(06:08):
Nan ever saw my handsome, angular face with lips like
cherries when the mask was off. Let's get this over with,
I said. Nan wished me luck, and I made my
way to the ball Martian asked. Peters was dressed in
a Tyrian purple suit and waistcoat. He avidly introduced me
(06:29):
to the up and coming maiden folk of the provinces
and London alike. But Buckingham was dull for a beast
like me. I craved Hern's woods, the women, their sense,
the flush of their cheeks was too much. I lasted
two hours without wanting to devour one blood and bone.
I excused myself and then hastened to the King's Wood,
(06:52):
where only I was allowed to roam, much less hunt.
Damn it, Peter, you couldn't even last till midnight. I
wept the change overtaking me. Aye, this hideous, rotting demon
came out. I prowled the river bank, half expecting Nimwae
(07:12):
to drag me to the watery depths. Out of shame
for Uther Pendragon's line. I was much more merlin a
Cambian than any prince charming the English made me out
to be. I fell asleep in a saint grotto to Mary,
it was my refuge. I could always feel the madonna
praying for me fervently in the cool, cavernous spring. It
(07:35):
had been a refuge of old doddering mother once she
had birthed a dead babe and given me life through
a pact with Satan. She was of the blood of Mellucinae,
and those women who knew how to summon the devil
in a pinch our line of webbed toes prove it.
I awoke to someone petting my rotten hind legs, the
(07:56):
fir matted, and then arranging the bloody mess of thin
meat slabs and black hair around my head. I growled, awakening,
thinking it a faye. But it was just a girl,
a girl in a blue dress that was tattered and
old and glass slippers. Are you cursed too, dear beast?
(08:20):
The strange girl asked, She was as lost as I.
Hair of gold, beautiful, with violet eyes and scars all
over her body. Do you know how torn my flesh
gets to be cursed to walk the world in glass heels,
How it digs into my bone just like your pendance
(08:43):
of rot? My father, Marchioness Peters, has hidden me away
in an attic all my life, replaced me with stepmother
and my stepsisters. I escaped. My fairy godmother said I
would find answers at this ball, but the guards saw
the tatters on me and would not let me in.
(09:04):
Are you not scared of me? Girl of glass? I
growled her touch soothing. I had never been touched by
a woman like this before, much less in my form
of the damned, A hellhound of rotting flesh and black
ragged wings. Hell goes with me. Don't you know that
fair beast Glass has no worth? At night I dream
(09:29):
of Hell of my bones turning to glass, my flesh
to ice. I freeze these damned things on my feet
they are shut in. What is your name, glass, girl, Cinderella?
Yours charm? I mean, uh, Peter, that's an odd name
(09:51):
for a hell beast, Peter, I like it, say Peter,
would you like to leave this grotto with me? I've
had it with all of London, telling my secret dreams
to mice and cheese. I'm a seamstress of some talent,
and you could be my guard dog. I'm afraid this
form will not last the night. I will no longer
(10:11):
be beast. I am supposed supposed to find a wife.
I hunt when I must eat flesh. Are you not scared?
I will eat you. Every thief and thief's wife I
have eaten have called me cursed, cur foul, mongrel, dog,
beast of hell. I devour them anyways, Huh. I have
(10:31):
splinters of glass for skin. They will sprout to pierce
your snout. My mother saw her reflection one day in
glass and boasted she was more beautiful than Lilith, the
ever pregnant Demonesse. So Lilith made me a child of glass,
born and sawing open mother's womb like a broken windowpane.
(10:51):
She died of the blood loss. No one will touch me.
They use cloth and gloves, But you, beast, Cinderella ran
her glassy sharp nails down my ridges. You can withstand me.
We talked all night and into the morning of our dreams,
our family, our despair. I finally admitted, over a bottle
(11:16):
of stolen Scotch, this vagabond Cinderella had in her skirts pocket,
that I was the prince now missing from the ball
and Lucifer's curse on me. Cinderella was kind, gentle. She
combed my bloody hair with her glass comb, and by
morning we kissed, And then we knew each other as
(11:39):
beast and woman, a carnal delight, her glass spinnerettes piercing
my bloody, knotted breast. We fell asleep under Mary's gaze
in the King's grotto by the spring. Then in the
quiet hours, we stole into the palace to bid Nurse
adieu give the throne to Marchioness Peters. I am off
(12:02):
to travel the world with my wife. Dear Nurse, I said,
Cinderella had broken my curse. Oh, I was still beast,
but I would never be disgusting man again. Oh, dear
charming Peter, I wish you well. You broke the curse
chaining you to frail humanity. You have found a girl
(12:25):
of the stained glass of Notre Dame. Nurse cried, hugging
me and my bride one last time. Cinderella smiled, a
glass spear in her hand, made of adamant. She mounted
my back and off into the autumnal morning. We speared
on thief roads and hanging grounds to haunt Herne's wood,
(12:46):
all of Europe, Africa and Asia, taking in sewing when
we needed to, killing when we were hungry, and we
had five glass wolf babes, a wild rambling brood. While
that was an interesting story, I love how the author
(13:08):
wove together characters and symbols from familiar fairy tales and
myths Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, the hunchback of more Dame,
even threads of Lucifer, Lilith and Melucin, and then transformed
them into something entirely new. The story doesn't just retell
(13:29):
old tales, it resurrects them in a darker, stranger form,
while still honoring the elements that we recognize. The ball,
the curse, the masked prince, the girl with glass slippers.
And then underneath all the magic, of course, there's something
deeply human at work. The Prince's shame is longing to
(13:50):
be seen and accepted, not in spite of the beast within,
but really because of it. I mean we all carry
part to ourselves that we believe are too dark, or
too strange or too broken to be loved right. But
sometimes in the most unexpected places, we find someone just
as strange, just as scarred, who sees us clearly and
(14:14):
then chooses to stay. So thank you so much, Alistair Nelson.
The Kai Don Kai has so many interesting stories from
every genre. Please subscribe to the podcast and check out
the substack to see comments by authors about their inspiration.
I also post art that I like any kind of
art on the various social media so pick your poison
(14:37):
and follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Blue Sky, or substack.
It's all in the episode description. Thank you so much
for listening today, See you next week.
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