TWL 1204: Two Wicked Tales / Alexis Dubon, Ken Brosky

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Welcome to Season 12 episode 1204.

1. “Just Another Cautionary Tale”, by Alexis Dubon. Performed by Addison Peacock, with a custom score by Nico Vettese of We Talk of Dreams. Every bar has its regulars. Every regular has their quirks. When one woman is given the chance at a night with this bar’s most problematic stud, you can almost taste the possibilities.
2. “The Very Counterfeit of Death”, by Ken Brosky. Performed by David Ault, with a custom score by Nico Vettese of We Talk of Dreams. A mysterious deserted island becomes home to two strangers. They can’t remember how they got there, but as time passes, they realize they know each other better than they first suspected.

Warning: The Wicked Library is a horror fiction podcast created for a mature audience. Our stories contain graphic descriptions of pain, murder, violence, blood, betrayal, and inhumanity; monsters win, people die, and hope is often shattered. There is also beauty, heart, catharsis, and raw emotion. Fear may be deeply personal, but we all share it.If at any time a story takes you to a place too dark, turn on the lights, press pause, or press stop. And always remember, that unlike in the real world, these nightmares, and your participation in them, are under your control.

Producers: Daniel Foytik & Meg Williams
Resident Composer & Executive Producer: Nico Vettese, of We Talk of Dreams
Hosted by: Daniel Foytik
Artwork: Greg Shaffer
Score & Incidental Music: Nico Vettese
Main Theme: “The Library Awakens” Nico Vettese
Final Audio Mix: Daniel Foytik, 9th Story Studios LLC

Get your copy of The Wicked Library Presents: 13 Wicked Tales on Kindle, or in print. Visit thewickedlibrary.com/read to get your copy today.

Get your copy of The Lift, 9 Stories of Transformation Volume One on Kindle, or in print. Visit victoriaslift.com/read to get your copy today.

The Wicked Library is created by 9th Story Studios LLC: www.9thstory.comAudio program ©2023 – 9th Story Studios LLC. All Rights Reserved.No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of 9th Story Studios LLC. The copyrights for stories are held by the respective authors.

Episode Transcript

(00:04):
Bline Story Studios giving story a voice. This is Addison Peacock and you're listening
to The Wicked Library. Warning.The Wicked Library is a horror fiction podcast

(00:35):
created for immature audience. Our storiescontain graphic descriptions of pain, murder,
violence, blood, betrayal, andinhumanity. Monsters win, people die,
and hope is often shattered. Thereis also beauty, heart, catharsis,
and raw emotion. Fear may bedeeply personal, but we all share.

(01:00):
If at any time a story takesyou to a place too dark, turn
on the lights, press pause,or press stop, and always remember that,
unlike in the real world, thesenightmares and your participation in them,
are under your control. Welcome tothe Wicked Library. I'm Daniel Foytech,

(01:34):
and I thank you for listening.A sincere thank you to those of you
who are supporting the show. Withoutyou, this show would not be possible.
This season, all episodes are heardfirst by Patreon supporters and later shared
with the full audience. When yousupport the show, you can choose between
ad free episodes, early access tothe stories, and at higher levels of

(01:55):
support you'll greet premiere access to EndfieldDetective Agency current in production. That's right,
Frank is coming back and to yourears this fall. You can support
the show at Patreon dot com Forwardslash Wicked Library. A lot of hard
work and money goes into making aWicked Library, and I really do rely
on this support to help me paythe authors, voice actors, composer and

(02:16):
artists so that none of the WickedLibraries contributors work for free. For as
little as three dollars a month,you can help make the show you love
possible at Patreon dot com Forward slashWicked Library. Now, let's get wicked
with today's first dark tale told byAddison Peacock with a custom score written by
Nico vites Of. We Talk ofDreams. Just another cautionary tale by Alexis

(02:39):
Dubon. Just another cautionary tale byAlexis Dubonne. I had a sister once,

(03:35):
Elsie, but not anymore. Shehad been accused of a pretty gruesome
crime, and rather than get lockedup, she decided to run away.
They were never able to find her. Her boyfriend's bones were discovered all picked
clean after he stopped showing up towork, and since she'd split, everyone

(04:00):
was pretty sure it was her whodid it. That was a few years
ago, and Jamie has kind offallen into the sister shaped hole in my
life. I met her at thebar shortly after all my family drama,
and we've been best friends ever since. She's almost like a sister, about
as close as someone could get,but no one will ever be Elsie.

(04:26):
She'd worked there long enough that shehad the good schedule, with the good
bar back and the good regulars,lots of familiar faces night after night,
and Jamie knew them all, whichmeant I got all the good gossip.
Like Mark, who lost an eyebecause of the time he got too drunk
to play darts right and used allhis strength dislodging one he got stuck in

(04:46):
the wall. He pulled it sohard he impaled himself with the back end
of it. And Will who alwayshad his two Jamison shots and Michaelobultra's between
work and home. He never saida word, but he was there every
day, always left Jamie at twenty. There was Chris, who once puked
all over the bathroom and Jamie madehim clean it up himself. After that

(05:08):
night, he always had a hardtime looking her in the face, although
that didn't stop him from coming inand getting hammered more often than not.
Then there was Greg. Greg wasa predator, gorgeous but evil. He
had those lumberjack arms made of hillsand valleys that you kind of just want

(05:31):
to bite. He always had justenough scruff on his face to emphasize that
jaw of his It could have beencarved from stone. He had deep blue
eyes that you'd have to swim yourway out of. You could just drown
in them forever, and the manwas devastatingly charming. He would remember just

(05:54):
enough of what you'd say to makeyou feel important, but it never stayed
in there long enough to make thatfeeling anything real, just enough to tease
you, make you taste it,but nothing ever lasted. He'd always lose
interest, move on to the nextimpossible to satisfy women served a passing purpose

(06:15):
to him, and that's where itended. Greg was a monster. Most
of the drama in the bar startedwith him. Girls would destroy their lives
to make him happy. They'd breaktheir leases on the promise of moving in
with him, just to be leftwithout a home or a backup plan.
They'd lose lifelong friendships because they didn'tknow he was simultaneously sleeping with both of

(06:39):
them. They'd sometimes come into thebar and tears, walk up to him
while he was on a date withsomeone else and cry about how he told
her he loved her just the nightbefore. He'd brush them off like he
didn't even know who they were,greg ate women for breakfast and shout out
broken lives. Lots of these storiesI heard from Jamie, but I had

(07:00):
seen enough firsthand and know she wasn'texaggerating. It was always different versions of
the same thing. We'd watch himfind some girl at the bar with her
friends or on her own, buthe was never the one to approach.
He always just somehow ended up withthem. They came to him like hummingbirds

(07:21):
to sugar water. We would watchhim scope out the room, make his
selection, and then without any effortat all, she'd end up at his
side, and unless he wanted to, he never left the bar alone.
Greg had an appetite or only onething, and the man was insatiable.

(07:43):
Jamie and I saw him break countlesshearts in the most ruthless, unfeeling ways,
and we tried warning his victims,but none never wanted to hear us.
His spell was too strong and soit went till last week. The
night began like any other, Jamieand I playing Rummy five hundred while it

(08:05):
was slow, and then gradually,as she got busier, our interactions were
reduced to side eyes, shot overguys getting drunker and drunker, and trying
harder and harder to hit on her. Eventually the place was full and we
barely had time for even our briefchats. As she passed from one side
of the bar to the other.With my stool in the middle by the

(08:26):
taps, we exchanged glances over Greg, watching to see which pretty young thing
he would take home. But forwhatever reason, his eyes kept landing on
me, even when my back wasturned. I felt them big bear paws
hugging my shoulders and working their waydown and up the curves of my body,

(08:48):
sussing out the quality of my meat. I was his choice that night.
I felt it that whole I glancedover my shoulder at the empty seat
beside his dangerous territory, but mydecision was well informed. He wasn't just
the hot guy at the bar payingattention to lucky little me, so cute

(09:13):
and funny and irresistible that I couldn'tpossibly say No, he was Greg,
and I knew his game, andhe knew I knew his game. This
would be something else. It wasalmost like a dare. Don't all winning
streaks come to an end? Eventually, Jamie shook her head at me and

(09:35):
mouthed a hard no. Sisters lookout for one another, But why not.
I would be entering into this willingly, and we would see which one
of us would survive. The nexttime Jamie passed by my stool, it
was empty. Jamie shook her headat me disapprovingly. She had seen me

(09:56):
leave with men before. She knewI had a type. I had a
sweet spot for the womanizers, somethingabout a man who could just shoe women
up and spit them right back out. I could never pass it up.
But even compared to the worst ofthem, Greg was extreme. I had

(10:16):
secretly dreamt at this moment I wantedhim so badly, but until that night,
I just never had the opportunity.This was my chance, and I
was going to take it. Hi, was all he said, so coolly.
As I sat down beside him.Hi, I gave him back,

(10:37):
and we both smiled because we bothknew that we didn't really need to say
anything. Else we had entered awordless agreement, Predator and pray. Game
on. We abandoned our half fulldrinks on the table and walked right out
the door. I'm going to showyou something, I said, as I

(10:58):
nuzzled and nibble at his neck,and he pressed harder against the gas pedal.
Just take this exit here. Prettysoon we were heading north on Root
seventy one toward the Lost forty forest. He'd never fucked on the forest floor
before, he said, and Iguided his hand up my dress, promising
him warmth against the cold night air. Can't wait to taste you, he

(11:20):
purred. Finally we arrived. Heshut off the car and the headlights,
leaving only the moon to light thenight for us. Come, I whispered,
and I led him into the woods, off the path where no one
ever went. I want to takeyou somewhere where we can be as loud
as we want. He followed,without hesitation. This is what a life

(11:46):
of safety brings. No doubts,just guarantees, no fear, just certainty,
not a care in the world besidesfeeding his hungry body. He knew
in his heart what was going tohappen, but he was wrong. I
led him deeper and deeper into thewoods, until it was so thick with

(12:09):
trees we could barely see the moonlightanymore. Into the heart of the forest,
where the pines stood tall and paleand silent. He was ready to
have me. I would be devouredand demolished and discarded like all the ones
who came before, but not thistime. The wind shifted, and I

(12:31):
knew we were close shit. Thetemperatures dropped like twenty degrees. Greg sputtered
through chattering teeth. I held thathandsome face in my hands, and with
a wink, assured him that hewouldn't be cold for long. There in
the silence of the forest. Somethingbegan to stir thought and gray. She'd

(12:56):
been waiting among the pines. Shecould have been a tree herself, standing
so thin and still, until herarm creaked at the hinge and her bare
foot rose from the cold dirt.Hollow and bony, the creature emerged from
the woods, spattered with sparse patchesof matted fur, alid skin stretched thin

(13:22):
and tight over her figure, thebones sealed within, threatening to burst through
at any moment. Gregg tried torun, but found himself already in her
grasp. And then came the teeth, dozens of them, shining like ivory
daggers in the dim blue light ofthe moon, Dripping wet with anticipation.

(13:43):
Her sharp green tongue speared from alipless mouth, the tip unfurling, as
if in a hurry to taste him, in advance of the rest of her
Dried blood, caked over patches ofmange painted a grotesque mockery of a smile
across her face. Then she letout a horrible, haunting sound, giving
voice to the fear in Greg's heartbetter than any attempt to do so through

(14:07):
his own human mouth. Her breathburned my nostrils with putrid fumes of corruption
and decay. It was worse thanI even remembered the sulfur extench of over
boiled eggs, and the sharp stingof vinegar, rotted acrid meat and broiled
flesh, fresh tire tracks, andlong dead animals left a bake on hot

(14:28):
summer asphalt. It choked me asI quietly stepped aside and let her study
Greg's body with lifeless, unforgiving eyes, Deciding where to begin. I watched
with cautious glee as he looked tothe beast struggling to escape her grip.

(14:48):
Helpless and hopeless and so delicious,I observed all the cockiness had drained from
his face. His confidence had desertedhim, his arrogance turned to terror.
There was fear and place of pride, defeat in place of dominance. It
was glorious. The trees shuddered atthe sound of his tortured and refutal cries

(15:13):
for help. Needles fell like tearsfrom the pines, as if in solidarity.
He shrieked and sobbed and begged forhis life, But we were so
far from anyone who might save him. Here he could scream as loud as
he wanted, only I in thetrees would hear. I backed up,
slowly, knowing I had to bein the car and ready to go before

(15:35):
she was done with him. Ihad brought enough men into these woods to
know that I only had a shorttime to get myself to safety. While
she fed with every man the beastconsumed, she became a little wilder,
a little more feral, And Iknew that eventually it would be too dangerous
to keep this up. But now, as I moved further away, I

(15:58):
watched gnaw old talons rip into hisbeautiful body, slicing a mo open like
pie, spilling blood and piss andhalf digested beer all over the frosted dirt,
making its steam greg This is Elsie, I shouted to him above his
screams, and please for mercy.She has quite an appetite herself. Next

(16:37):
up, we dive back into thedarkness with today's second dark tale, told
by David Alt with a custom scorewritten by Niko VTEs Of. We talk
of dreams, the very counterfeit ofdeath by Ken Browsky, the very counterfeit
of death by Ken Bruski. Iam not alone here, I am not

(17:04):
alone here. I remember seeing thisisland in the distance. I remember it
shaped like a crescent, with abeach of black sand, like a gaping
mouth consuming the blue ocean water.I remember a crash, then darkness.

(17:25):
I can only remember the storm andchurning waves. The boat hit a rock.
Suddenly I felt my body slam intothe helm. Then cold water and
darkness. The sun burns the skinof my neck. During the day,
the land is dry, hot andsparse. There are cacti and white incense

(17:48):
trees with bare branches and yellow iguanasand giant tortoises with beady, discerning eyes.
They wonder why I don't make myway to the north the island,
where trees are more abundant in theirshelter from the elements. I tell them
I'm too weak, too exhausted.I take shade during the day underneath trees

(18:12):
with heavy green leaves. The airis wet at this higher elevation, and
mist obscures any view of the southend of the island. It clings to
me, I swear. I canfeel the water droplets crawling across my skin
like an army of ants. Birdscall out from the trees. It's a

(18:33):
familiar song. There are rocks juttingout of the southern cliff like tall steps
that make it easy to crawl tothe ocean, where the waves are gentle
and undisturbed. I drink the saltwater. I can feel my body absorbing
what it needs. I know it'simpossible, but it's true. I drink

(18:59):
water that clings to massive spade shapedfern leaves. Birds encourage me with high
pitched tweets. It's as if theywant me to survive, and I take
this as a good sign. Iwas always an optimist. You have to
be when you're waiting for a goodwind to fill your sail. The lizard
is watching me from a rock.I grab it and squeeze it until it

(19:22):
stops writhing. I pluck the nailsand eat it whole. Then sleep,
wake a dusk with a terrible hunger, my skin burning. Follow a trail
to a tortoise nest. I usemy fingernail to slit its throat, devour
it. Jesus Christ. I can'tstop, even though the taste is wretched.

(19:48):
The birds wake me early. Theysit on low branches, proud of
their yellow and red plumage. Theylook to me like finches, but some
have a strange horn on their bills. I talk to them to stay sane
while I walk through the forest andgather jew that's collected on leaves. They
follow me, flying from branch tobranch. They gather in greater and greater

(20:12):
numbers. My flesh burns and aches. I pluck branches from the white oil
trees and dig them into my skinlike giant acupuncture needles. I can feel
the soothing oil lubricate my muscles.It feels so good. This coat of

(20:36):
thorns I try to walk toward thesouth end of the island, but the
birds cry out a warning. Nightis comfortable, cool, dark. I
find another tortoise and drip it apartwith my bare hands. I taste salt
and ham and something sweets blood.And when I'm done, I start chewing

(21:03):
on the shell. And I don'tknow why, but I can't stop.
I'm so sure that if I couldonly crack through the exterior there might be
some hidden marrow inside. I feela crack and a wave of pain as
one of my teeth shatters. Terrorwashes through my veins. What's happening?
Is this punishment? Foot? Butno, it was not my fault.

(21:29):
The ship crashed. The birds siton low branches and watch me sleep.
There's so many now they scare me. The mornings raise rake across my back.
My hollow stomach screams for sustenance.I crawl on the ground and pluck

(21:51):
iguanas from their dirt nests. Somethingin my head screams for me to stop,
but it's distant and choked by itsown hunger. I eat the iguana's
hole. I feel their claws desperatelyscrape my throat. I relish the feeling
of blood trickling into my gut.More there are none. I've eaten them

(22:15):
all. Why now north? Ican hear birds calling to me, thousands
and thousands of birds. They wakeme, my ears ring from their whistling
calls. They sit on every branch, yellow and red and black birds,
shouting and flapping their wings a message, a warning. I grab a fallen

(22:40):
branch wet with green moss. Ican see them, thousands of birds greeting
me as I enter the forest.I reach out for one on a low
branch, and hundreds scatter in arainbow cloud that moves like a sentient creature.
I stumble around a tree, mynails clutch at the trunk, and

(23:02):
tear away back. The birds beckonme. Something is coming. I clutch
the branch, heart racing, butI can't hear it over the chorus of
birds. They're flapping their wings,and it's as if the forest itself is
drawing in quick breaths. And thensuddenly the birds are quiet. I see

(23:26):
him, a man like me.I lurched toward him and reach out and
tell him I'm marooned here, Butmy words come out in a drooling draw.
I get closer, and I seethrough swollen eyes that something is wrong.
He looks like me, He isme? How how could it be

(23:53):
possible? He swings a branch likea club, and I feel a bone
in my shoulder crunch painfully, andnow all I see is red. I
must eat, and I scream interror as the hunger repels me forward.
The full weight of the creature fallson me, and we stumble backward.
I try to push it away,but his rough skin is loose and thick

(24:17):
like risen bread dough. My fingersslide inside. The creature's terrible jaws open
just inches from my face, andI let out a cry. I am
to blame. Yes, I amthe one who crashed our ship. I
misread the navigational charts. Yes,and rather than help secure the sails,
I leapt overboard, leaving my crewdown a man at their most desperate time.

(24:41):
And so I clawed at myself,ripping away my face. The birds
begin chirping, flapping their wings withglee as the creature's nails tear at my
face. They're watching, They're entertained. They have done this before. They
watch me devour the man who isme, and then they disperse, leaving

(25:07):
me alone in the empty forest,and I fear I shall never again be
the man I was, and allthat remains is the evil I've carried all
my life. Thank you for listeningto episode number twelve h four. Today's

(25:53):
authors were Alexis Dubon and Ken Browsky. Today's stories were told by Addison Peacock
and David Alt. I'm Daniel Foytechand I've been your host today. Our
resident composer and executive producer is Nikovdazing Off. We talk of dreams.
Artwork for today's episode was created byGreg Schaeffer. Our producers are Meg Williams

(26:15):
and Daniel Foytech. To find outmore about The Wicked Library and other Ninth
Story shows, visit the Wicked Librarydot com and Ninth Story dot com.
If you'd like to help keep thiscollection of dark tales coming, please support
The Wicked Library on Patreon at Patreondot com forward slash Wicked Library. You
can also help by leaving a fivestar rating in short review in Apple podcasts.

(26:37):
These ratings and reviews help other listenersfind the show, which helps generate
revenue to ensure no one contributing tothe show works for free. The Wicked
Library is created by Ninth Story StudiosLLLC. All rights reserved.