Halloween Fiction Special: It Bleeds, It Burrows, It Breaks the Bone

is so special. It's a special twice, the extra special Halloween Fiction Special. It is definitely not a filler episode because we ran a three parter, but but it is special special, that's what you're saying. Yes, it's extra special cool. And today I have an extra special guest, So if you do you want a guest who guests guests? Who it is? I kind of kind of blue that one. This is a filler episode. I'm pretty sure it's sucking me. Today we have the Webby Award winning Sophie lift Him

and On as our guest. Sophie, how are you doing? You really love to introduce me like that. It's so funny. I'm doing well. It's Halloween. Anderson looks great in her Halloween costumes. I have a bunch of candy that probably no kids are going to take, but I will leave it out for them. Anyways, How are you, Margaret, I'm good. It has just occurred to me that there is a small, a close to zero but non zero chance that some neighborhood kid it's going to walk up the long gravel

driveway to my house. I hope that doesn't happen. I mean, I mean, you'll know because we're in troub will inform you and then you can just hide. Oh that's a good point. Yeah, that's a good point. Or I'll give them like a can of soup, I mean, honestly dried, the weirdest thing kids have probably gotten on Halloween ammunition. I grew up in Los Angeles and you would and you would go to a house and they'd like give you like a toothrush or something, so or they'd be like,

here's our sugar free, gluten free soulless. Yeah, they're like, we don't believe in candy in this household. Here is this thing that you definitely do not want seven year old meat, but um, go off. So, I mean a can of soup sounds lovely compared to that. Yeah, I could. Some of them are fruit I have, like canned fruit that's sugary, sugary. There you go, you've you've done it.

There was there was there was a year that this person like ran out of candy and then they just sort of like giving people like touching with their hand. I have like a very bad memory of it. They would like handfuls of like cereal they had in their house, but it wasn't even like like a solid like sugar cereal. It was like the kind that you're is. It was like the kind that you were like, mom, how dare you buy this? Oh? Like the ones that are basically

granola or whatever. No, it was like it was like it was like you were eating like bark, like tree bark. It was that bad um. And they were like, I ran out of candy. Here's some tree bark that I've touched with my hand. So all I'm saying is soup not bad, canned fruit not bad. Somebody's old not delicious. Cereal that they've touched with their hand very bad. Okay, good to know a couple of rounds of two, two three or a can of soup people can pick. There

you go, solid option. Yeah, and then the cops will. I'll be like, oh, look, you have a nice outfit, you're dressed up like the police. And then then it's actually them. Then Halloween's really scary, I know, just like the Frankenstein's Monster came to the door earlier, where I thought it was a costume, um and it wasn't a costume. Yeah, that happens, well, Sophie. Today is okay, it's Halloween for us, but for everyone else it's two days after Halloween, which

is even spookier. And so I was thinking, I was thinking, why don't I read us a ghost story? I mean, I would love that, because I've asked you to do it. But yeah, you know, well, fortunately for you, both the you in the singular Sophie Lichtman, Today's guest and the greater you plural, which is the original reason for the words yeah and for for use for y'all. Fortunately for you,

I have written such a story. And I'm even on tour right now temporarily at my house, reading people stories from my book of stories called we Won't Be Here Tomorrow. Oh my gosh. Is that published by one a K Press? And can people buy it? It? Is? It is available? And if you want to hear a story from it. That's what I'm going to read today. I love that Margaret was in town for her work tour and she read another story about a witch that was also really amazing,

and so I'm just going to plug that. So you should buy Margaret's books so you can read that story as well. So it was really good spooky stories. Usually I basically just protagonize all the witches and such. Yeah, I mean, you were reading the witch story and I was like, Markers, is this about you? This is a little bit about you? Right, it's not not? And then you were in the middle of Reagan. Do you won't. Oh, I guess this is kind of a little bit about me.

I love that. My favorite thing about going on this tour is like realizing what's um the weird subtext of all of these stories. You're like, oh, who did that? Okay? Yeah, yeah, okay. Well, I'm going to read this story and you can feel free to to interrupt as you as you wish. This story. It's called it bleeds, it burrows, it breaks the bone. The land was beautiful, though the house was not. The house was as decrepit as only a house made in the eighties could be carpet paint and mold, too big,

too empty. Sarah nails herself was as decrepit as only a girl made in the eighties could be skin teeth and aches, too small, too empty. The land was an endless field of snow with pines like iron bars, pines like a cage. Twenty minutes to a neighbor, an hour to a store, three twist city. That was Minnesota. The Feds might not find her in Minnesota. They might not break her, They might not bind her. They might not throw her into a prison full of men. Trans girls, arsonists.

They belong in prisons full of men. Sarah watched the roads of the window, the one over the desk, the one framed in spiderwebs and dead flies. Nothing ever came up that road, nothing but Darnell once a week with groceries. It bleeds. The walls of the house said, not now, Josephine, Sarah whispered, you just when her grocery still all bleeding. So I was like, Okay, we're grocery shopping, got it. What did we buy? The walls are bleeding? Continue enjoying, Yeah, uh,

not now, Josephine, Sarah whispered, it burrows. The walls said louder, now more insistent. Please not now, it bleeds, it burrows, it breaks the bone. Sarah put her hands to her face, holding back tears. Not now, later, the house said, when you sleep, when you dream, when it bleeds, when it breaks. Yes, Josephine, we'll talk tonight. I look forward to it, the house said, Sarah, in her despair, did too. The bedroom faced west, and the setting sun cut in through the window, onto the

bed and onto Sarah. No blankets, just sheets and a cranked up thermostat. It wasn't even four thirty, a few days from midwinter, the sun scarcely bothered to rise at all. A poster hung from a single thumb tack, lost among decades old show fliers and political screeds. In photocopied high contrast, three punk women with nineties hair, posed with guitars under it. Cursive script read we don't have to win, we just have to survive. Sarah had always wanted to win her

whole life. She'd set that compound in Virginia on fire in order to win. She had killed two neo Nazis with a little more than a gas can and a kitchen timer. She'd wrecked thousands of hours of their planning, plodding a million dollar arsenal. Gutted and twisted by flame, Sophie that the thing about killing Nazis is that it's a net gain of human life. The other thing about killing Nazis is that, for some indiscernible reason it's illegal. Oh yeah, it is. It probably because a lot of

them are making up the laws and enforcing the laws. Yes, that that probably the the Nazi um what's it called when people tell lawmakers my brain doesn't work. It's Halloween. The Nazi lobby very powerful. I'm saying that if I'm being sarcastic, but now I think you're actually just sort of right. Friends within her movement found friends within an allied movement who found friends within a third movement, and those friends hit her in Minnesota. The people who were

hiding her didn't know why they were hiding her. They didn't want to know, which is what friends of friends of friends are for. They hired someone to look after her, to show up once every couple of weeks with food and hormones and whatever she needed, and that was it. That was her life, now, hiding, running Minnesota under the posters.

In the bedroom sat a chair, an ugly chair, steel legged and upholstered, with cracked vinyl on the chair, her notebook, Nothing but Tally's in that notebook, days twenty four hours reduced to a single Tally. Her life was reduced to the passage of time. Now, Sarah, the house asked, now is fine? Josephine said, The ghost appeared in the doorway. She was hazy, only distinct wherever Sarah focused her attention. Sarah had read the news reports almost twenty years back.

Josephine Declare had disappeared at age thirty nine, presumed dead of exposure somewhere in the pines. Search teams hadn't tried very long, and they never found a body, survived only by an aunt and a cousin. The haunted sins died. The cousin and environmentalist inherited the house and donated it to the movement. Sarah wasn't the first person who had

been on the run at Josephine Declaire's house. Now, Sophie, if you are stuck at a house in Minnesota and you needed something to eat, what do you think what would keep you going through those cold Winter Nights. Potatoes. That's right, Sophie, potatoes. Potatoes. If you, dear listener, are on the run for murdering Nazis and I know at least of you are, Potatoes are your best friend, except for the fact that you can't eat them roll. This is the single biggest down to side the potatoes, which

is why we're also sponsored by ovens. Mm hmm. Eating food before you eat it. The concept of ovens like energy efficient ovens, m and like not just being someone who eats cold chili out of a can, but someone who eats warm chili out of a can. You can you can make your life that much better by heating your food before you eat it. I mean, yeah, yeah, solid point. It's like getting your mattress off the ground. It is an important step in the development of a person.

Are you saying it's time for an advert? Is that what's happening here? Yes? Ah? And we are back from those ads and the pines aren't angry, Josephine said from the doorway. Straight black hair framed her beautiful face. She had crow's feet and green eyes that were always wet with tears, and she had the smallest mouth a doll's mouth a mouth, Sarah longed to kiss what. They're not angry, They're just disappointed, Sarah asked, trying and failing to get

herself for the ghost to laugh. They're just passionate, Josephine said. They suffer, are they sorrow? But they do not speak. I'm tired of riddles, Sarah said, tell me a story. Tell me about yourself, tell me how you lived, how you died. You think I'm not real, Sarah nails. You think I'm in your head. I can't tell you about myself because you wouldn't believe me. Then why can't I see you? Two years is a long time to be by yourself, Josephine said, it isn't. It isn't. Sarah, on

the bed, started to cry a little. I wish you could hold me, she said, I wish I could too. Tell me about the pines. Then tell me about this passion. It bleeds, Josephine said, her countenance wavering in the last light of the day. It burrows, it breaks the bone. That's the hard part about dating a ghost, Sophie. Right when you said it burrows, and then you did that pause, Bill, one of the lights in my studio flickered and one out. I'm just saying, okay, okay, I'm just saying the vibe,

the vibe is there. Yea. Yeah. And we had actually a different guest on, but something mysterious happened in the middle of the first to take at trying to record this and for legal reasons we can't discuss, but hopefully that won't happen to Sophie. Yeah, I mean the lights are flickering. We don't know. Yeah, this is not a bit. The lights are actually flickering. My part is a bit, but Sophie's part is not a bit. It'll be fine. I'm not worried. Yeah. People ask my Halloween plans and

I was like, I've been on tour. My Halloween plans is to sit in my spooky house in the woods by myself watch movies. I know you deserve that so much. I'm so excited replacing driving time with sleeping, which it turns out if you do while you're on tour, if you replace the time that you're driving with sleeping, um, you crash. Yeah. This is really fun and clever to interrupt my own story like this. Yeah, I'm like, Margaret, you're going on a tangent. It's your own story. I know,

I know. Sarah didn't even bother trying to sleep at night anymore. Whenever she slept at night, she dreamt of police raids, different every time, but every time she was dragged away in handcuffs, or shot in the back as she ran, or shot in the front as she fought, or subject to things worse than violence. So she was awake, sitting in the cold vinyl and steel chair reading trashy romance when the wolves came, the same pack of seven,

two parents and their children. They circled the house counterclockwise, silent, ten nights in a row, and they were always silent. She put down the book and went to the kitchen. Darnell before she moved to the house in the Pine, Sarah hadn't held a landline in ten years at least yep, A voice said on the other end of the line, distant and tinny. He was talking to her by speaker phone, like always, can you come a few days early? I'm running low? Damn girl, did you eat ten days of

food and five? Darnell always accented the word girl when he was talking to her about her A lot of siss people did that. It was sweet and it was irritating, an equal measure, like Darnell himself. I gave it to the wolves, Sarah said, mumbling, you did what I They were hungry. They're outside my house. They howl like the wind, and they pad and they plod, and they were hungry. And now, yeah, Darnell said, yeah, sure, can you bring

extra meat anything, A couple of pounds at least. I'm not sure this mental health sabbatical is doing you good. Listen to me, the house said not now, Sarah said, company is coming. We'll talk tonight. Listen to me. Now. Sarah nails what. She put down her quilty and turned her attention from the snow falling outside. Josephine wasn't there.

She could talk anywhere in the house, but she usually only appeared in the bedroom only to watch Sarah she slept, and as she didn't sleep, it's why Sarah slept in that room under the house. A tunnel at the end of the tunnel, a path beyond the path, a lake on the lake, a boat across the lake, a bike. A bike lays open the world. There's no tunnel, Josephine. I've been over every into this house. Under the house a tunnel. You're not real remember under the house a tunnel.

At the end of the tunnel a path. Who built the tunnel? Huh? The gods of the pines? Are they? Who is burrowing? Bleeding? You have company coming, the house said and grew quiet. Sarah turned back to the window and watched the truck come out from the trees, crawling through snow and ice and four wheel drive. The truck stopped just outside, and Darnell stepped out with a heavy bag of groceries under each arm. He told you would come back to groceries. I'm really glad we're full circling. Yeah,

I mean, you wouldn't have enough food otherwise. Anyway, did she buy potatoes? You know? I I assume she's a smart character? Okay, so definitely, yeah, even like it. It doesn't even be written into the main text. It's it's just assumed. Got it, got it? Got it? Yeah, he's all Sarah watching through the window, and his smile crept up into his eyes. He obviously thought she was crazy. He was probably right whatever, but it was just as obvious he liked her anyway. She went to the door

to let him in. He stomped his big brown boots on the mat, then strode inside. You've got to let me get a couple of guys out here. Fix his place up, Darnell said. He went into the kitchen sat at the table while Sarah put the food away, like he did every time he came, her only living contact two years. Look at this floor, the linoleum. I mean, it's coming up anyway, and it's linoleum. It's a shame the old house has gone. You know, a rum runner

house had to have a good wooden floor. As Sarah had heard it, the old house had burned down in the seventies before the current monstrosity was built. Before Josephine had lived here, bootlegs had used it on their way across the border more fugitives. He kicked at the floor. I know a guy can get his lamb in it pretty cheap. I don't own the place, Sarah said, And besides, I'm just here, so you're feeling better. Darnell cut in, Yeah, but for how long nails. Even when she's temporary, you

got to make the most of it. Don't be afraid to settle in. Don't be living life like you're on the run. That's what my dad says. Your dad left you when you were ten? Yeah, dark joke. Magpie also the most consistent laugh out of an audience when I do this, when I read this at an event, different lines get different jokes, But that is apparently the funniest line in the story. Will you tell it an audience?

You can see Magpie space. She knows, she knows that shade, and so she makes this space like it's really funny. I'm being slighter. I really like it, just like that slight shade where it's like, I know I'm being an asshole. Your dad left when you were ten, Yeah, but he wasn't afraid to settle in before he skipped down. If Sarah liked men, she would have liked Darnell. He was handsome, smart,

never condescending, self educated, alive. She'd take a dead woman over a living man, which wasn't fair to any of the three parties involved. Hey, so I got you something for Christmas, Darnell, said Solstice. Sarah corrected, sure, pagan Christmas. Whatever. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a compass, said on the table, it's not much right, but I was reading about the lady who lived here. How she just disappeared in the snow one day. And I grew up not too far from here. And I don't go in

much for woo woo ship. But the land here is cruel, just passionate. What did you call it? Sarah asked, sitting down a jar of pickles, trying not to look at startled as she was. The land don't care about us. So first I thought I'd get you a gun, but I couldn't really afford it, and besides it might be a bad idea for reasons and mental health stuff. And I thought, get you a compass. You ever lost, pick a direction and stick with it, doesn't matter the direction.

Dad teach you that too. Yeah, and he's a piece of ship, sure, but he's right sometimes just fully saying fuck that Dad. Yeah, not the best dad in any of these stories. Thank you, Sarah said. She picked up the compass. It was solid, came with a hard plastic folding lid. She slipped it into her pocket. I have something for you, too, Sarah said. She went to the living room picked up the quilt. She tied off a final thread and cut it. Yeah, she heard from the kitchen. Yeah,

I'll be in town later. Tonight or tomorrow. Yeah, something came up. No, it's not a big deal. I'm fine. He was on the phone. Sarah walked back into the kitchen, clutching the quilt to her chest. Yeah, hey, I've got to go. He hung up, put the phone on the table. She stared at the phone. He stared at her. Oh ship, sorry, nails, no cell phones, Sarah said, I know. I'm sorry. Here, look, I'm turning it off now. It might be too late. They might know where I am. You've got to go.

If you're worried, let me stay over. I'll keep you safe. No, no sleeping over. You are friend zoned. Friends get quilt, so don't complain. Now leave, Leave. She thrust the quilt into his hands. This is this is amazing nails. I'm gonna use. I'm going to use that. You are a friend zone. Friends get quilt, so don't complain. Yeah, and it took a long time, and I'm glad you like it. Now go. He cast a long look over his shoulder on his way out the door. It was obvious he

was worried about her. That may sense She was worried about herself too, but not weird enough to share her bed with you respectfully. You are in the friend zone and you are not coming out. Yeah, yeah, exactly, everyone knows and it's fine. I actually I really consciously I was like, I want to write a like sweet story where like the person in the friend zone is just chill with it's just like, yeah, that's that's that's our relationship.

It's fine, you know, because I feel like that's actually most of my experiences of of putting people in this terrible zone that is people are like, oh, it's the zone where I got a quilt. Okay, like whatever that has that has not been my experience, but your healthier relationships. Yeah, I I try to write, um, it's utopian. The stories that utopia. Yeah, I'm like that that that you know who you are. That did not happen, that was there was no chill quilt situation. Oh did they at least

not get a quilt out of it? There was no QUI that's great. I'm glad they got nothing out of it if they weren't going to handle that. Yeah, today's subtweeted episode little Personal, Sophie calmed down back to the story please, Yeah, speaking of personal, the first time Sarah met Josephine was a summer night, not a week after the arson, while Sarah slept on her back in the

bed in the house in the Pines. In her dream, Josephine had been sitting on the ugly chair, gazing out the window, a bottle of pills balanced precarious on the sill. Josephine had been crying maniacal hysterical laughter, sobs that shook the house, that shook the bed, that woke Sarah up. When Sarah woke up, and the pills were gone because they were the dream, but Josephine was still there, still ghostly. Hello, Sarah asked. He was too scared to be scared. What's

your name, Josephine asked, Sarah Nails. I'm sorry I'm in your house. I'm not Sarah Nails. I'm glad you're here. You're something new to look at, something beautiful, like the land, like the snow, like blood, like the birds, moth, dear death moon. Tell me something about yourself, Sarah said, I'm dead, Josephine said, besides that, I'm lonely, me too, Josephine. Sarah had never seen ghosts, not once in her life. She hadn't believed in them, and she hadn't disbelieved in them.

Most interesting was to realize she wasn't afraid of them. The things she was afraid of were far worse than a dead woman. Will you come into bed with me? Sarah asked, I can't. Josephine said, I can't touch you. Josephine stared for a long moment, her eyes glistening with life. I can watch though, that will do mm hmm okay, And you know who else will watch you while you sleep? Yeah? The security systems that we advert Yeah, probably to be honest. Yeah. Well, oh, Sophia,

I bet you didn't know this. But every week we asked our guest if there's something positive that they would like to be sponsored by. Yeah, first time hearing about that? Super interesting? Are you asking me what I'd like to be sponsored by? You are the only guest now that the other one is from this realm? Yeah? That was awkward. The concept of giving your dog a toy or treat and the look in their eye that says, this is everything I've ever wanted and is just pure joy. That excellent.

That is today's sponsor the joy of a dog, and also today's sponsor not getting caught, which totally ties into the missing other guy. Yeah, and then all these other ones and we are back. And so if you did you know that a few pounds of hamburg or worns enough to feed the pack of wolves. Sarah knew it. Sarah knew Sarah knew it. Well, I did. I did not know that, But I'm glad Sarah. She was sure

that the wolves knew it. Oh. Still, She filled a big wooden salad bowl with raw pink meat and went outside. The moon was behind clouds, so she flicked on her keychain flashlight. They were waiting for her. Standing twenty ft from the door. The mated pairs stood still. Their children played in the snow teeth that throat, the same games everyone plays years ago. Sarah would have named the wolves. It wouldn't have been right. They didn't have names. They

didn't need names. They were not pets, not companions, not friends, not enemies. They were wolves. She set the bull down on the stoop. Every time they came, it was the same. First, the mother came forward, skittish. Sarah didn't go back inside, but she didn't hold out a hand either. The wolf grabbed the meat in her mall, then darted back a few feet, then looked over her shoulder and met Sarah's gaze. The pack trotted into the forest, and Sarah was alone

again with less food. He's Sarah, Darnell asked, he wasn't calling from his own number, that cetera. On edge. Yeah, I don't know how to say this, but Darnell hesitated. Some guys in suits came to my door asking about Some guy said his name was Richard something. Hold on, I've got it written down, Richards Stillman. They were looking for Richard Stillman. Sarah knew Stillman, Darnell said, said he might be dressed like a girl might be hiding out.

Said if I knew anything about that, that I should let them know that it would be a good idea. What did you say. I didn't say ship, didn't say yes, didn't say no. I took their business card. Yeah, they're FBI, and I called a lawyer, and now I'm calling you, Oh, perennial sponsor of this podcast. Not talking to the Feds. Well, yeah, don't talk to cops. Don't talk to feds. Hi, Margaret Killjoy here, boy, the world sure is a mess right now? Huh? Seems like every day there are more and more reasons

to get out into this recent protest. That's why when I get arrested, there's only one strategy. I trust, I shut the funk up. I say, I would like to remain silent, I would like to talk to my lawyer, and then I shut the funk up. In the United States of America, it's constitutionally protected and recommended by the National Lawyers Guild. That's s h U t th h E f U c k u P. Once again, that's s h U t t h E f U c k u P. Because you can't talk yourself of custody,

but you can talk yourself into a conviction. Providing identification to law enforcement required in some states and situations, giving name an addressed expedient in most circumstances, never discussed the events leading to arrest with anyone except your lawyer, doctor, or therapist. Posting pictures of protests and actions on social

media may lead to complications. If you have already talked to cops or experienced confusion about talking to cops, call your attorney immediately, as these may be signs of more serious legal problems. The concept of not talking to cops does not provide legal advice in the foregoing statements are for informational purposes only if you have specific legal questions. Consultant attorney. Sarah took a moment to still her mind. Best if you don't visit anymore. Thanks, Darnel. Sorry for

all the trouble. Yeah, Ship, I'm sorry, Sarah. Not your fault. It might have been his fault, of course, it might have been the phone thing, or god knows what else. Take care of yourself. Yeah, same to you. She hung up. They were coming. There was no way they weren't. If they weren't here now, they'd be here soon. Contingencies. She had planned for contingencies. She went into the basement under the house. A tunnel, Josephine said, not now, at the end of the tunnel a path. There's no tunnel under

the house. There was no tunnel in the basement. She'd been over every inch of it when she first arrived. She had inventoried everything, she'd studied everything. The house was her own prison, and she'd searched every crack and every brick. The house was full of a lot of things, including a veritable pharmacy of expired prescriptions. In the bedroom closet, including ghosts, no tunnels, gasoline, though there was plenty of gasoline. Sara found the five gallon jugs just where she'd first

seen them. She picked one up and started towards the stairs. It was heavy enough to pull her to the side as she walked. You can't solve every problem with fire. Josephine didn't usually talk to her in the basement. She didn't like the basement. Even ghosts were scared abasements. Watch me, Sara said. Violence begets violence. The walls said, you killed people, and now other people are coming for you. What would you have me do? Just lay down and die? Josephine

was quiet. She was thinking yes, no, I refused, Josephine, you hear me, I fucking refuse. Think about Darnell. What's going to happen to Darnell if you kill the people coming after you? Sarah put the jug down at the base of the stairs and stood up straight. Nothing good, Sarah said, is that what you want me to say? Nothing good? Though? Arrest him and I'll have to prove in court he wasn't an accessory. Maybe he'll plee out

and go to prison. It was never nice to get your friend locked up, and we're still to do it to a black man exactly, Josephine said, I'm not going to prison, Sarah said. She picked up the jug and started slowly up the stairs. You don't have to go to prison. I'm not going to prison. I'm not just gonna kill myself. Okay. The walls were silent. In response, Sarah got four jugs of gas up the stairs to by the front door for the most dramatic effect. The

other two positioned best to bring down the building. She had plenty of time to plan the whole thing, but never let it get over complicated to kitchen timers. Some flares that was it might not even kill anyone. What made you do it, Sarah asked, as she took the cap off the last flare. Same as you end of my rope. I'm not at the end of my rope. I'm not going to argue, Josephine said. Sarah sat down in her favorite chair, by her favorite desk, by her

favorite window. She was going to miss that chair. She was going to miss watching the wind blow the snow in the winter, and the grass in the summer, and the pines all year round. A man was after me, Josephine said, her voice was quieter than usual. Eyes with fire behind them, hands with blood inside them. A gun, a gun, always a gun. A man who thought I was his. You should have fought him. You would have won,

Sarah nails. He would have won, and I would have been his, and he would be sitting in this house right now, and I would have been sitting in this house right now. And it's better to be eaten by wolves than be married sometimes, you know, Yeah, yeah, valid, a new theme for well, I guess it's more about poisoning husbands was the previous one. Wait? What did when he said the shreek goes a big sleigh shut? Yeah? Wolves.

So I took pills, more pills than other days, and I went out to the pines and I gave myself to the forest, the snow, the moon. Yes, the wolves. I followed the wolves. I gave myself to the wolves, not to the man. I'm sorry that happened to you, Josephine. I'm not sorry. It's not going to happen to me though. Then the tunnel, there is no tunnel, Josephine, you're in my head. Of course. The sunset, and no Feds had arrived not yet. Sarah wished Darnell had brought her a

gun after all. Sarah made herself tea thick and black. I re light in the house was off. The half moon lit up the world, and the wind blew the shadows of the trees against the wall. Behind her. Two flares sat on her lap. The wolves arrived and circled the house. There was no meat for them, not unless Sarah decided to die like Josephine. They bleed, Josephine said. Sarah saw her reflection in the window, but didn't turn to look back at her friend, her lover of sorts.

They burrow, they break the bone, who, Sarah asked? The pines, the land, yeah, and the moon, and the snow shore shore, Sarah said, And the wolves, the wolves. Sarah stood up and looked at Josephine. The ghost stared at her, her eyes moist with tears like they always were. Headlights broke through the window ship. Sarah said. I thought I'd have longer. Everyone always does. Sarah looked at the gas cans, bright red and plastic and out of place by the door.

She couldn't do it to Darnell. There were pills enough in the bedroom of course, she could avoid prison. At least. She didn't want to die, but it was bound to happen. Eventually. She walked up the stairs, her boots heavy on the ugly faded carpet. She walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, box after box of sleeping pills, A good night's rest,

of a long night's rest. She turned and saw two things at once, Josephine on the chair by the window and the poster on the wall visible through Josephine's translucence. We don't have to win, we just have to survive. Are you real? Sara asked, I need to know, and I need to know right the funk? Now, what do you think? Are you real? Our ghosts real? Is the tunnel reel? A car door slammed out of time? I love you, Sara nails. Josephine said that was real enough.

I love you too. Sara sprinted for the hallway, careene down the stairs and ran out the side door of the house, grabbing her coat from the chair as she went. The flares and the pills spilled from her hands into the snow. The wolves stood back, nervously watching her. Headlights came from the front of the house. She followed the wolf tracks around back. The wolves followed her at a distance. Curious, dispassionate, Sarah traced the tracks down into the gully that marked

the end of the yard. They only ran another twenty feet before they stopped suddenly, at the side of a boulder set against the ravine's wall. The wolves den in the distance. There was shouting, then howling, then shooting. Then a wolf screamed. It wouldn't be long. Sarah had always been small for a boy, and she got down onto her belly, and she squeezed between the rock and the earth and made it into the den, though it ripped her coat and soaked her in snow. She turned on

her flashlight. There were the bones, animal bones, animal bones, and a human as an animal too, And there were the old bones and the skull. Josephine was real, and she given herself to the wolves. Past the midden was a tunnel waist high cut by human hands into the earth, reinforced with old timber. Bootleggers tracks lead here. A voice called from just outside, a man's voice, low and angry.

People get angry. The land doesn't I can't fit, though this will fit, another man said Sarah heard gas and turned to look as a metal canister rolled into the den smoke. She turned her back on it and crawled. She crawled through the tunnel, which was endless until it ended. She came up in a part of the wood she'd never seen before, and the half moon showed her the path. The path, too, was endless, until it ended at the

shore of the lake. The lake was frozen over and the rowboat had rotted through, and she set out on foot across the ice. It creaked and it cracked, and it held. The bike's engine turned over and it filled the world with its roar, and Sarah Nails took off up a gravel road. She reached a fork, and she took out her compass. North. Somewhere up north was a border, and beyond that border was hope. Not a lot of it,

but maybe enough. Look at you ending your story hopefully. Yeah, as I told you, it's the utopian story and the compass. It was a good gift, I know, I know, exactly better than a gun in this particular circumstance, probably for the average person. If you're thinking to yourself, gunn or compass, spooky but hopeful. Thanks, that's kind of Like, that's kind of you, Margaret. I picked the name killed Joy at a younger stage in my life before it became a

professional optimist who tells people about how it's worth doing things. Yeah, all going north towards the hope. I love that. Yeah, Yeah, it's funny even like some of the stories that were written earlier in like the this book has a bunch of stories written over the course about five or six years, and some of the earlier ones end a little bit less hopefully. Um, and that absolutely just relates to like where I was at when I was writing these given stories.

Sarah cool people who did cool stuff. Yeah, be like Sarah. Don't do anything illegal ever, obey all the laws. Wait wait, I have a better one. Don't do things just because someone that talks to you on a podcast suggested you do them. That's what I got co signed, co signed so hard. Oh my goodness, this is really great market and a great story. Uh do you wanna plug where

it's from one more time? Well, it's from my new book We Won't Be Here Tomorrow, available from a K Press, which is a collection of short fiction with stories like this one. If you want to hear some of the other stories you can actually listen to about a year ago on it could happen here, But you could search Margaret Kiljoy it could happen here or something, and you probably find two stories I wrote there also that are also in this book. But there's so many more. Besides

so many stories. I don't know why I'm trying to make this sound spooky this Halloween. Halloween. Well, yeah, thanks everyone for listening to. Possibly my new trick that I do whenever I do three parts, which is grow some fiction in there. Um, Sophie, do you know anything to plug like? Possibly? Is there any like? Is there anything like new I could listen to on cool Zone Media? Like, like, I like the shows that you all have, But I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice if there's something new,

a new voice for cool Zone? Yeah? I mean, if you're looking for something new, we have a new podcast called Internet Hate Machine, hosted by the one and only Bridget Todd, and you can find that wherever you get your podcasts bas soon buye Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff is a production of cool Zone Media. For more podcasts and cool Zone Media, visit our website cool zone media dot com or check us out on the I Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.