A warning this episode contains graphic content that may be difficult for some listeners. Please listen with care. First things first. If any of what you're about to hear sounds unfamiliar, scroll on back and listen to last week's episode, part one of this storyteller's orders. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the exposition. Back in my twenties, all I wanted was for people to take my story seriously, to believe in the power of my writing. On one very strange trip to Louisiana, my wish came true in the worst way possible. I was in a great wooden hall with my arms and legs bound. In front of me was my laptop. Surrounding me were the outsiders, a freakish tribe who lived in the swamp. Their matriarch, Prudence, wanted to sacrifice me for trespassing. The grunch road monster, lurking in a cave at the end of the chamber, was raring to feast on my blood. But Prudence's daughter, Evie, was fascinated by the world beyond her swamp, and she knew I was a storyteller, a bard, as she called me. She thought that if I could tell her people's story, they wouldn't be shunned. They could have a happy ending.

Prudence reluctantly agreed. Now she set her weary bones down to tell me the truth. 200 years ago, the outsiders were known as the Marais family. They were from Acadia, a region of French Canada, but they were explorers, too, a large, restless clan who dreamed of seeing the world. They set out on a seafaring adventure. But when they hit a storm in the Gulf of Mexico, they were marooned on the shores of Louisiana. At first, they were welcome into the broussard family's farming community. But then a sickness spread through their clan, one that thinned their skin, gnarled their bones, and stole the color from their cheeks. It coincided with a drought and a wave of animal deaths, and the blame fell on these so called outsiders. The townsfolk drove them into the foul swamp. At the edge of town, they cut off food and water supplies and tortured anyone who dared to venture out. When the Marais clan found dark magic, they used it to conjure the grunch road monster. Yes, it killed and fed on trespassers, but they had no choice. The world had forsaken them, and they needed the beast's protection. Prudence sighed like her burden had ever so slightly lifted.

I was moved, too. I'd agreed to tell her story as a matter of survival, but now I was burning to tell their story so they could find justice. I felt my writer's block crumble. I cracked my knuckles and started typing. But I only got a few sentences in when a notification popped up. Low battery. The screen went dark, and my laptop died. From the look on Mama Prudence's face, I knew I was dying. Next.

You'Re listening to run, fool.

I'm Rodney Barnes, and this is episode 42, the Monsters of Grunch Road, part two. I hit the power button on my laptop frantically, but it was out of juice. And it's not like there's an outlet where I could plug it in. Evie looked confused. Prudence gripped her shoulder. This was why you never trusted people from the outside. They trick you and betray you like the broussard's had done to their forefathers. It was the same old story. I tried to explain that this was a setback, but it was no use. Evie took a deep breath, making a tough decision. Then her warm green eyes went cold with rage. She said that I deserved to suffer, and she'd sacrificed me to the monster herself. Prudence hesitated, like she didn't want to see her daughter grow up so fast. But then she handed her a carving knife off the banquet table. Evie grabbed my collar and pulled me out of my seat. She dragged me over to the cave where the horned goat faced grunch road monster lurked. Now her resolve faltered. She turned to prudence and asked her to dim the lights. She wasn't sure she could stand to see what she was about to do to me.

Prudence let out an ear piercing whistle. The green swirling lights that they used instead of flames flew out of the room. Now the only light was the red glow from the cave. The outsiders began to whisper an ancient chant with words I couldn't fathom. I heard the goat monster rumble and roar, coming closer. Evie raised the knife, then leaned in close to whisper something unexpected in my ear.

Promise that you'll get me out of here.

Evie sliced the ropes that bound me. She grabbed my hand and told me to run. Evie pulled me to my feet and dragged me from the cave. The rest of her clan was chanting in the dark, but they'd notice, assume she ran right at the chamber wall. It was only made of branches and leaves, and Evie burst through it with incredible force. Now we were out in the humid night air, facing her people's rickety wooden village. In the chamber, the chanting stopped, and murmurs turned to shouts. We heard Mama prudence bellow, Evie's name. It was a matter of moments before they came after us. Evie pointed to a nearby bog where canoe was idled. We jumped into one, landing hard. I felt an awful crunch in my shoulder. When I looked over, I saw that it was hanging out of his socket. I cried out, but Evie clapped her hand over my mouth. I pushed it away and whispered, this was nuts. How could we steer when I was injured and there weren't any oars? Evie looked to the sky, then let out the same whistle her mother had the green lights. The fou follet shot down at us like little comets and swirled around the canoe's base as the rest of Evie's tribe raced out of the hull.

The canoe revved with magic, and we sped off across the swamp. I looked back. A dozen outsiders were jumping into canoes. If they could pull the same trick with the lights that Evie did, they'd catch up fast, I told Evie, and that made her panic. She needed help. So I scanned the area and locked in on a bridge up ahead. It hung above the bog on waterlogged wooden poles. It looked like they'd snap in an instant, and I was counting on it. I told Evie to steer the canoe at the bridge. When we got close, we had to duck. I thought she'd say no, but she gave me a daring smile. Evie whistled again, angling her body toward the bridge. The lights changed course, carrying us closer and closer to it. Evie and I ducked onto the canoe's deck as we rammed through the poles. We shot through to the other side and watched the bridge collapse, barring the way for the people chasing us. But I didn't think it would hold them back for too long. We sped through the swamp in silence. Then I let out a whimper. My shoulder hurt. Evie grabbed my arm.

Before I could stop her, she wrenched my shoulder back into its socket with a crack. I gasped, and Evie shook her head.

Your people are so fragile.

I snapped at her. Yeah, we were fragile. If she was lucky enough to get out of this swamp, she'd find out that we had a mess of other flaws, too. If she wasn't ready for that, then why was she risking her life and mine just to escape? Evie said we were fragile, but we were also brave. Unlike her mother and her tribe, who cowered in the muck. She wanted freedom for them, too, but if they wouldn't change their minds, she'd still free herself. She wasn't going to let her clan's sad past dictate her life story. She wasn't scared, and she wouldn't compromise. For a second. She reminded me of Zeph Broussard, the farmer who abandoned me in the swamp, who was dead set on keeping the outsiders off his land. I don't think either of them would love the comparison, though, so I didn't mention it. Instead, I put a hand on Eb's shoulder. I told her she was brave, too. A few minutes later, the bog got too shallow to float on. We had to go the rest of the way on foot, but I recognized our path. It was where Zeph and I had been attacked by the outsiders earlier that day.

We weren't at the edge of grunch road yet, but we were close. I told Evie to hurry, took her hand to move faster. She gave me a hopeful smile, and I'm sad to admit it made me nervous. I was pretty sure I could get her out, but what happened next? Could she learn to adapt? Was she my responsibility? As my worries took over, we stumbled to a stop. Shadowy figures loomed in the path, blocking our way. I was sure Evie's people had found a way to get ahead of us. Evie whistled, and the full Foley sparkled above, barking down to illuminate the path. Seth Broussard stepped into the green glow. Behind him was his hulking dullard of a son, Gus, and other men, too. They all pointed their guns right at Evie. Zeph looked at me with disgust.

She's not going anywhere.

Evie tried to rush past the men, but Gus leapt in her way. He grabbed her while Zeph held a gun to her throat. I told him to let her go, and Zeph laughed.

Or what?

Suddenly, I felt a blade against my neck. Mama.

Prudence uttered, or he dies, too.

The outsiders had snuck up on us. I'd call it a standoff, but the odds were stacked. Zeph's son, Gus, and his other men were terrified by the outsider's quiet cunning, their sharp knives, and their horrifying animal mask. Seth looked scared, too, which wasn't good and made him more erratic. He told Prudence he didn't give a damn about me. I'd chosen my side like the young fool I was. Why should he spare Prudence's spawn? Prudence told him that Evie was innocent. She didn't understand the ways of the world. Yet. When Zeph spat on the ground and asked why he should care, prudence got desperate. Her stony facade cracked, and she sobbed.

Because she's your daughter.

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Everyone was stunned into silence. I asked Zeph, what was she talking about. See, when we first went into the swamp, Zeph told me that the outsiders had kidnapped him 25 years ago. They'd given him a choice. Die quick or live for a cost. He chose to live because he had a growing family. He hadn't told me what that cost was. Now the story spilled out of him. They tied him up in a chamber, stripped him bare, dimmed the torches. Then he felt a woman's presence. She ran her hands along his body, and he did everything she told him to. The experience was so terrifying, he passed out. When Zeph woke up, he was at the edge of the swamp, safe and sound. But he was pretty sure what they'd taken from him. And that violation made him hate the outsiders even more. Evie looked disgusted, and I was, too. I'd been certain that the Marais family were victims, and Zepp, Broussard and his lot were the villains. Now wasn't sure if anyone here had a clean conscience. Prudence insisted she didn't want to do it. Her elders forced her to. After a century of isolation, the clans gene pool was shallow.

If they didn't want their next generation of children to be so well related, they needed fresh blood. New blood. That's why Evie and some of the other young outsiders looked more normal than their parents. They weren't just ma ray. They were Broussard's, too. For a second, Seth looked lost. Then he gritted his teeth.

They won't be for long.

He raised his gun at Evie again, but this time Gus stood in his way. He told his dad to stop, and he pulled his half sister into a beam of moonlight by a grove of trees. He stared at her closely, reading the map of her face. Once you saw them together with their matching green eyes, you realized how alike they looked. In a tone far sweeter than I expected, he tore her. His name was Gus and that he had another sister, Lisette, back on the farm. Evie's eyes welled up. She said she'd like to meet her. Gus turned back to his dad and said, maybe she should call me crazy, but I got a sense that two centuries of conflict might evaporate in an instant as these siblings from different worlds met. It was a beautiful moment, but it wasn't meant to last. Giant, sharp goat horns burst through Gus's chest, and their grunch road monster stomped out of the trees behind them. The goat man reared up to howl and shake his horns. Gus's body was still speared on them, so blood spread it all over the broussard's and the outsiders. Seth screamed and told his men to fire at the monster.

Prudence yelled at her warriors to stop Zeph's men. A battle broke out, gunshots firing, blades clanging, centuries of anger and fear boiling over. They were all so wrapped up in their fight, nobody saw the monster scoop evie up and pull her into the woods. Nobody but me, that is. So I ran after them. I tore through trees and splashed through swamps, gaining on the grunch road. Monster. I had him in sight, and at one point he turned back to look at me. The beasts eyes glowed red, and I swear his goats mouth twisted into a smile. Then he kept running, and I did, too. Only I lost sight of the path and fell face first into a bug. When I pulled myself out, the monster was nowhere to be seen. I called back for help, but the battle raged on and no one heard me. Now a flurry of green lights shot across the muck and hovered above my head. The Foo Foley. They lined up and pointed in one direction. Seth said these devilish lights were fool's fire. If you followed them, they'd only lead you into darkness. But I followed them because the dark was where I wanted to go.

I thought they'd lead me to the village, to the cave where the outside outsiders kept their monster, but instead I stopped in a clearing. In the middle of it was a cabin made of jet black wood. It didnt look like the outsiders rickety construction or Zephs farmhouse, either. It sounds wild, but it felt like a portal to hell masquerading as a cabin. Maybe I just thought that because the door was open and I saw a blazing fire in the fireplace, I turned to the fufole and told them they had to get the others. While the light splitted off, I ran up and peered in the door. Evie cowered by the fire, cradling Gus's bloody body in her lap. I got closer and called her name, hoping to break through her shell shock. Suddenly she gasped at something over my shoulder. The door slammed shut behind me, and the grunch road monster lurched from the shadows. That was scary enough, but what really tingled my spine was his smooth, charming voice.

Welcome, wordsmith. I'm glad you found us, because I simply must ask, why are you ruining my story?

There's an old writer's trick called the deus ex machina. At the end of ancient greek plays, gods would descend from the heavens to make things right with divine intervention and bring the story to a fitting end. Well, the grunch road monster was the opposite of that. A demon who rose up from below to prolong the suffering and make everything worse. As he soon revealed to me, he wasnt the outsiders protector or the broussard's nemesis. He was their puppet master, an ageless trickster who lived in the swamp before there was even a word for it. Banished there by kinder gods. He'd been bored for eons until the outsiders washed up. He was so annoyed when the broussards welcomed them with open arms. Peace and harmony. Multicultural understanding. What a snooze. So he cast a spell to make the outsiders sick and pale. He worked his magic to kill the broussard's crops and animals, and he watched with glee as the clans turned on each other, kicking off two centuries of bloodshed and trauma as they debased themselves. He goaded them and fed on their pain, the way your grandma devoured soap operas to make her empty days a little brighter.

The goat trailed off. He came over to me, clip clop, clip, clop, and grabbed my hand.

It was a thrill to watch until you showed up and tried to give everyone a happy ending.

He squeezed my hands so hard, I was afraid he crushed them. If I survived, I might never be able to write again. Then his grip loosened and he grinned.

But you're not as good a bard as you think, Rodney. Not yet. And your meddling may just help me turn this into a real tragedy.

The goat lifted his cloven hands, and invisible forces yanked Evie to her feet. She struggled as her body jerked over to us like a puppet on strings. He leaned in, soft and seductive.

Poor Evangeline. All you wanted was a new beginning, didn't you? Well, it's my personal belief that all good heroines must suffer. But I'll grant your wish for a price. If you want to start a new story, you owe me a big, bloody finale. For this one to turn the page. You must kill your family. Both of it.

Evie's eyes filled with a sick gleam. I was worried she'd give in, but she burst into tears.

I can't. My mother's a monster, and my father hates my kind. I don't have a family.

Just then, the door blew off its hinges, and prudence and Zeph stormed in. Out in the clearing, Zeph's men and the other outsiders surrounded the cabin. These warring clans had all come together, for now at least, to rescue Evie and Gus. The goat was surprised, especially when Zeph rammed him with the butt of his gun. He toppled, and prudence stabbed her blade into his chest, using all her might to force it through his leathery hide. She bellowed at him to stay away from their children. Evie lit up. It was like she was seeing some alternate version of her life where her parents both got along. She couldn't stop herself from rushing to Zeph. But when he caught sight of Gus's mangled body, he pushed past her. Zeph fell at his boy's side. He wiped the blood from the holes in his chest, as if cleaning him up would bring him back. When he realized Gus really was gone, he went very quiet, very still. He let out a haunted whisper. This is all your fault. Then Zeph stood up, raised his rifle, and put a bullet in Prudence's chest.

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Prudence went down, her heart blown apart. Evie screamed as Zeph raised his gun to kill her next. I dove in the way, ripping the rifle from his hand. Then I tried to comfort Evie, but she shoved me off. Burning with fury, she looked at the goat on the ground.

I accept your terms. Let's end this.

He was injured, but the goat laughed. His infernal bleeding echoed as he dissolved into the acrid red smoke. It shot at Evie and funneled into her mouth. The scrawny girl grew, muscles rippling through her pale skin. Her jaw elongated, fangs burst through her lips, and her green eyes turned into bulging, blue bloody orbs. She let out a howl, then stomped to Zeph. She bent down, ripped Gus arms off his torso, and swung it high like a baseball bat. She brought it down on Zeph, over and over. His face turned red, then purple, and his screams were drowned out by the blood that poured from every pore. He fell to the ground, his face above bloody pulp, beaten to death by his dead son's severed arm. On her last swing, I grabbed the arm from Evie. I told her to stop, but she roared back that I didn't control her and threw me into the wall. I crashed into it and saw stars. Evie looked out the door frame at the farmers and the outsiders who remained. She started to growl, and both groups scattered. She leapt up to go after them, but I rushed from the wall to tackle her.

Summoning all my bravery, I told Evie she was wrong. I did control her. I was the bard I knew best, and this was not her ending. Evie bucked and grunted, trying to shake me, but soon the grunts turned to sobs. Her body shrank back to a scrawny size, and the hole that the demon had on her faded. She went still and slumped over in my grip. I started saying her name, then yelling it, but Evie's eyes were closed and her heartbeat was faint. Too faint. A few minutes later, I held Evie in my arms and ran down the path. If she was dying, I had to get her out of the swamp to make her dreams come true before it was too late. We emerged onto grunch Road. As the sun rose, I stumbled to a stop and shook Evie. I thought she was dead, but then she took a weak breath and mumbled.

The swamp smells different, I told her.

Yeah. Cause we're not in the swamp. Evie's eyes fluttered open. Color blossomed on her cheeks, and she burst into a smile. I set her down, helping her find her footing. She toddled around like a baby, just discovering the world. She pointed ahead and asked what that place was. I didn't lie, I said. It was her father's farmhouse. And that girl standing on the porch and squinting at us. That was Lisette, the sister Gus had told her about before he died. Evie smiled. She raised her hand and waved hello. I marveled at her ability to see the world were fresh eyes when I heard a strange pop and a bullet ripped through Evie's head. She crumpled to the ground, and I whipped back to the farmhouse. Lisette held up a smoking rifle and popped another bubble with her gum. I wanted to rage at her, I to tell her she gunned down her own sister, but I don't think she'd really care. See, she'd done what her daddy had taught her to do. Kill the outsiders who threatened her land and killed her kind. That was the only story Lisette knew, and she did her best to give herself a happy ending.

If you're wondering. No, I never got my laptop back, and frankly, I don't remember the half written screenplay on it. I doubt it was very good. But that romp in the swamp was still crucial to me as a writer because it taught me that stories aren't just for fun. They're way more than just an excuse to eat a bucket of buttered popcorn. Stories are spells. Stories have power. And if you tell them wrong, there are serious consequences. The broussards and the outsiders experienced the same events, but each clan came away with different tellings, ones they told their kids and grandkids, which reshaped their worldviews and led to so much suffering. So be careful about the stories you hear and the stories you tell. Your happy ending could be someone else's. Hell Run fool is a production of Ballin Studios campsite Media and at will media. It is hosted and executive produced by me, Rodney Barnes. This episode was written by Amin Osman and produced by Abakar Adan and Lee Mengistu. Editing by Abukar Adan. It was sound. Designed and mixed by Greg Devens II.

Sound director, designer, and mixer is Kevin Seaman.

Creature vocalization by Terry Cashburn and Colette Anderson and artwork by Jessica Claudston Kiner. Production support by Jeremy Bone and Cole Licasio. Special thanks to our operations team, Doug Slayin, Ashley Warren, Sabina Mara and Destiny Dingle. Executive producers at Ballin Studios are Mister.

Ballin, Nick Witters and Zach Levitt.

Executive producers at will media are Will Malnotti and Rosie Guerin. Executive producers at Campside Media are Matt Scherr, Josh Dean, Vanessa Gregoriotis and Adam Hoff. Thanks for listening and see you next time. Next week.