By now, you probably know I spent my 20s road tripping back and forth from the East Coast to the West Coast, trying to make my Hollywood ambitions a reality. It sounds exciting, and a lot of the time it was. Other times, though, I felt hopeless, leaving a place that didn't understand my dreams, headed for another place that might not care about my dreams, hoping that someday my writing career might matter. I want to tell you about a time that my dream almost died because I almost died, too. It was late, and I was lost in the backwoods outside of New Orleans. My AC was on the fritz, and gusts of swampy air blew in through my car window. I cursed myself for taking a wrong turn. I just wanted to get to the city, hole up in a motel, and write. See, inside my backpack pack was a brand new laptop, my first ever. Today, you'd laugh at how clunky it was, but back then, it was a high tech marvel with a screenplay on it that I knew would kickstart my career. Or it might once I got over my awful case of writer's block and finished the damn thing.

I used to write like my life depended on it, but lately, the words just weren't coming. I adjusted my laptop bag so it wouldn't fall over. I looked back at the road and joked to a stop. There was a dead goat in my way, lying in a pool of blood. I thought a car had hit it until I saw claw marks on its back. I heard rustling and looked up. Just beyond the goat, the road turned to mud and snaked its way into a swampy forest. Something felt wrong about it. I was about to back away when I heard a bleat. The poor goat was still alive. I crouched and it looked up at me. Its eyes were beady and strange, but something about its pain was so human. I reached out hoping to soothe it when I heard a click. I turned. An older man stood by my car, cocking a rifle at me. He said to step away from the goat. I told him I wanted to help and beg him not to hurt me. He scoffed, Hurt you?

I'm trying to save you.

Before I could ask, From what? I got my answer. I heard a clip clop and a terrifying howl. Then something ran out of the woods, an unholy cross between a goat and a man, with leathery black skin and razor-sharp quills down its arms and back. And the monster was headed right for me. You're listening to Run Full. I'm Rodney Barnes, and this is episode 41, The Monsters of Grunch East Road, Part One. The Monster bore down on me, and I froze in fear. The man with the rifle bellowed to get to the ground. I dove, and he ran in front of me to shoot at it. One, two, three times. The bullets bounced off its skin like it was made of pure steel. I was sure we were goneers. But then the monster stopped right at the edge of the swamp, where the road turned from gravel to mud, like there was an invisible barrier. The man bellowed and said to come no further. This was his territory. The monster blinked and cocked its head, strategizing. Then it attacked. Not me, though. It went for the goat. The beast snatched it up and dashed back into the swamp.

I heard one last desperate bleat, and then silence. I lay on the ground, horrified at the animal's fate. The man pulled me up by the collar.

Quit crying. The goat was just a bait. That thing was after you.

The man took me to his old farmhouse off the side of the road. Minutes later, I sat in his kitchen as he poured a glass of whiskey. I chugged it. He chuckled and poured another. My savior's name was Zephron Brussard, a farmer and widower who lived with his two kids. Gus, a brutish-looking guy around my age, paced on the porch with the plotting steps of a slasher movie killer, keeping an eye on the swamp. Zeph His daughter, Lisette, sat on the couch listening to her walkman and chomping on bubble gum. She looked like she belonged at the mall, not on this backwoods farm. Then again, she was methodically taking her daddy's rifle apart to clean it. So Lisette wasn't your average teenage mall rat. The whiskey dulled the panic enough for me to ask, What was that thing? Seth called it the Grunch Road Monster. It had been around for a century, and it preyed on anyone foolish enough to stray near the swamp. But the beast wasn't what I had to worry about. No, the real danger was the people who sent the monster out to hunt, the outsiders. Back in the 1800s, this was a peaceful farming community, and Zeph's family was the most prosperous of all.

It was a simple life, but a good life until they showed up. Nobody knew where the outsiders from, but they were different, smaller in size, so pale that you could see their veins through their skin. Some people wondered if they were sick or inbred. They talked different, they walked different, they smelled different. And when they came, misery followed. Crops weathered, a plague wiped out the livestock, and babies were still born. Nobody knew if the outsiders did it or if they were just They had luck. It didn't matter. Zeph's ancestors banded together to drive them out of the town and deep into the swamp, which, Zeph admitted, was a mistake. See, there was magic in that swamp, and not the good kind. The outsiders made a deal with the devil himself. And ever since, the grunge road monster stalked the edge of the woods, hunting for victims, bringing his masters what they craved. Fresh blood. I shivered. Have you seen them? The whiskey trembled in Zeph's hand, and his eyes were haunted. Just once, and once was enough. I asked an innocent question. Why didn't he just move? Zeph slam the bottle on the table.

This is my land, and I will stay in my ground. No fear, no compromise, and no mercy.

Late that night, I woke up sweating and anxious. It was hot in Zeph's guest room, even with the window open. I tried to shut my eyes, but then I heard footsteps. I looked out the window and saw my car on Gruntz Road where I'd left it earlier. I'd forgotten about it in the midst of all the chaos. I was wondering if I should go and park it closer to the farm when a figure crept out of the swamp. I I saw a flash of silver hair, a robe with a blue-green lining, and goat-like horns silhouetted by sunlight. I thought it was the monster, but no. This person, if it was a person, was shorter, more graceful. They stalked around my car, poking and prodding. Then they peered through the open driver's side window. The moment I realized I'd left my new laptop in there was the same moment I saw them steal it. I dashed out of the farmhouse barefoot and screaming. I told the figure near to my car to stop, to put my bag back. They froze like a spooked deer. I was 100 yards away, but I thought I could make it in time.

Then Zeph's son Gus tackled me. I fell in the dirt, struggling against his grip. When I looked up, I saw the figure running back into the murky swamp. Zeph walked out of his farmhouse. He looked mad, but I was madder. I told him we had to follow it. I needed that computer back. I'd spend all my money on it. And this was before Wi-Fi and the cloud and everything else. So to lose my script idea, it would devastate me. Zeph rolled his eyes.

It's just a thing. You're lucky that freak didn't steal your kidney.

I stood up and squared off with him. What happened to standing his ground, showing no fear and making no compromises? Was Zeph talk? He glared. I'd hit a nerve.

You got grit, boy, but I'm drunk. You're a wreck, and neither of us would survive the swamp at night.

He walked off, and I felt hopeless until Zeph turned back. So we'll leave at daybreak. All right, so you're laying there and you're in the moment. Barry White is on, you got your smoking jacket on and your lady's next to you, and she's up and you're not. What do you do? You start to sweat, you start to panic, you start to worry. But you wouldn't have to do any of that if you went to Hims. Hims provides access to a range of doctor-trusted ED treatments such as chewable hard mints, proven treatments like Viagra and Cialis, or their generics for up to 95% cheaper. Just answer a series of questions on their site, and a medical provider will determine the right treatment option. If prescribed, your medication ships directly to you for free. Start your free online visit today at hims. Com/run. That's H-I-M-S. Ems. Com/run for your personalized ED treatment options. Ems. Com/run. The products mentioned are chewable compounded products which are not approved or verified for safety or effectiveness by the FDA. Prescriptions require an online consultation with a health care provider who will determine if appropriate. Restrictions apply. See website for details and important safety information.

Subscription required. It price varies based on product and subscription plan. The next morning, Zeph and I stepped out of his house. We turned back to face Gus and Lisette. They stood on the porch, each holding a rifle. Zeph asked, If anyone other than us came out of the swamp, did they know what to do? Gus narrowed his green eyes and nodded like an obedient goon. Lisette, still chewing gum, raised her rifle toward the swamp, blew a big bubble, and let it pop. Their dad had trained them well. On Grunch Road, Seth and I stopped where the gravel gave way to mud. Where monsters lurkt and where my laptop was. I hesitated. Was this really worth it? With my writer's block, maybe this was a sign to give in. But then a voice inside me surged up with resolve. If anyone's going to tank your career, let it be you, Rodney. Not a bunch of swamp freaks. So I left my world behind and stepped into theirs. It was sunny at the farm, but it looked like dusk in the swamp. The terrain was treacherous. Muddy paths suddenly gave way to putrid bogs. The hoops and cries of unknown creatures filled our ears.

I looked out to the water and saw green lights dancing on the surface. Seth told me to look away now. The way he snapped, I sensed that he was a lot more scared than he let on. I asked if they were fireflies, and he shook his head. No.

It's the fool for lay. Fool's fire. If you follow those lights, they'll only lead you into darkness.

I wondered, was that how he found himself here and met the outsiders? Seth shook his head. No, it was just before Gus was born. He was worried for his growing family, and one night he got drunk and decided to do something about it. He took his gun and stumbled into the swamp to kill the Grunch Road monster and to keep his kin safe. But the outsiders didn't send their monster to deal with him. They came themselves. They kidnapped him, tortured him, and they gave him a choice. He could die quick or he could live at great cost. Zeph chose to live. I was waiting for Zeph to tell me what exactly that meant, but he went quiet, and his eyes popped as wide as saucers. I thought he was going to cry until I saw he was looking behind me. I whipped around. Someone was standing on a down tree in the bog. They wore a dirty burlap robe, and they had the face of a goat. I backed away, but Zeph stopped me. Sweat poured down his brow, and soon I saw why. There were figures everywhere, 10 of them. They walked upright, but each of them had an entirely different and horrifying animal face, like mutated deer and foxes and goats, climbing down from branches, rising from the swamp, creeping closer and closer, holding knives and spears.

The outsiders had us surrounded. Seth whipped his rifle up, circling and aiming it at the outsiders. None of them flinched. They just walked closer. Seth fired the gun into the air. That startled them, and they ducked down. He pushed me and told me to run. He'd hold them off. The only path that wasn't blocked by outsiders was a trail that led deeper to the swamp. I'd have to take my chances. I ran for 30 seconds or so until I slipped in the mud. I slid off the path and down a bank, then plunged into a sludgy bog. I surfaced, choking and spitting foul water out. I heard Zep scream, and I knew I couldn't leave him, but I didn't want the outsiders to see me either. So I swam back alongside the path, hoping to go unnoticed for as long as I could. When I got back, I peered through fallen branches to see Zep on the ground. The outsider surrounded him, and one of them had taken his gun. Then a new outsider walked up taller than the others with the face of a goat and jagged-painted horns. Clearly, their leader. The leader looked down at Zeph.

He was paralyzed with fear. I gathered my courage ready to run up and help when he pointed in the direction I ran.

The kid went that way. He's the fresh blood you want. You've already had mine.

The outsider's turned to look at the path while Zeph shot up and ran away, abandoning me in the swamp. I couldn't believe it. I almost yelled out at him, but I didn't want the outsiders to spot me. I don't think they'd realize I'd swam back. They looked at each other, nodding their heads in jerky movements. Then they moved at once to stroll down the path I'd run off on, taking their sweet time like hunting people was just a cheerful walk in the park. They were gone. I wasn't sure what to do now. Hightail it back to civilization or keep looking for my stuff. I was trying to decide when I heard a sigh behind me. An outsider standing in the water holding a branch. I saw the blue-green lining on their robe and knew it was the one who'd taken my laptop. Before I could do anything, they lifted the branch and bashed me on the head. I woke to the sound of clicking. I was on a raft floating in shallow water, and a wooden structure. It was like a grotto. Only the walls were made of branches and leaves. Sun dappled through the crisscrossing wood, and even though I was scared, I had to admit it was wondrous.

Like Peter Pan in the Lost Boys' Hideout, I realized the clicking I heard was tapping on a keyboard. I followed the sound to an alcove. I peaked in and saw the outsider cautiously pecking at the keyboard and watching my laptop screen. My laptop was open and they were pressing the delete button. I couldn't control myself. I yelled for them to stop. The outsider whipped around and their goat-like face and horn scared me half to death. I told them I didn't want to hurt them. I just wanted my computer. The outsider cocked their head and spoke in a woman's voice.

You can talk.

Then she stood up and pulled her face off. Well, it turns It turns out it wasn't her face, just a terrifyingly realistic goat mask. Underneath was a girl a few years younger than me. She was short and scrawny as she moved with feline grace, albino pale with angular features and tangled silver pearls. She seemed otherworldly, except for her eyes. They were bright green, sparkling with childlike curiosity and mischief. She told me that she'd taken off her mask. It She was only polite that I'd do the same. I told her I wasn't wearing one. She crept up, poked my cheek, and giggled.

This is your face. How strange.

She sounded like a bratty kid's sister, and I went from scared to annoyed. I told her she was funny-looking, too. And why the hell did she wear that scary mask? She shrugged.

To ward off the outsiders.

It took me a second to understand that to her, I was the outsider. Her name was Evangeline, though her kin called her Evy. She spoke in an odd dialect, a colonial French, peppered with Cajun French. When I made a move for the laptop, she blocked my away and asked what the magic box did. I was pretty sure she had no idea what technology was, so I told Evy that it helped me tell stories, to write them down, then send them out to the whole world. I hoped I wouldn't have to explain email to a feral forest woman, but she took my word for it. She lit up with a smile brighter than my laptop screen.

You're a traveling bard.

You know, with all my road trips, I was a traveling bard. I couldn't deny that this was an ego boost. See, Evi loved stories from the outside world, meaning my world. She left to a thatch of leaves, then lifted it to reveal a secret closet full of things she'd stolen from people who'd stray too far on Grunch Road: passports, travel guides, even IKEA furniture instructions. She couldn't read, but she adored the images. Her favorite was a picture book about humans, screaming for their lives on gigantic torture devices that were clearly built to drive them insane. She held out this so-called story. It was a Disneyland brochure. The pictures were actually of joyful tourists enjoying the roller coasters. But hey, I see why she thought it was a torture manual. I was tickled by her way of seeing things until I remembered my situation. I glared at Evy and asked, What happened to the people she stole these things from? Did her clan kill them? I thought she'd get defensive, but Evy just looked sad.

The same would happen to me if I set foot outside the swamp, would it not?

I couldn't say she was wrong. This show is sponsored by Betterhelp. With hectic lifestyles that we all live, raising kids, moving about the Earth, it's easy to forget therapy. When I wanted to improve as a writer, I realized I needed to improve as a person. What helped me more than anything else was therapy. And once you become better, life becomes better. That starts with therapy. That starts with focusing on yourself. And better help can help with that process. If you're thinking of starting therapy, give better help a try. It's entirely online, designed to be convenient, flexible, and suited to your schedule. Just fill out a brief questionnaire to get matched with a licensed therapist and switch therapists anytime for no additional charge. Never skip Therapy Day with Betterhelp. Visit betterhelp. Com/run today to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp, H-E-L-P. Com/run. Suddenly, Eeevi grabbed my arm. I drew back in fear, but She just asked me to tell her my story. Look, back then, I was used to people actively fleeing when I tried to pitch to them, so this was a nice surprise. I was just about to tell her my half baked idea, hoping it might help with my writer's block when someone bellowed Evy's name.

Evy.

Evy's ears drew back like a terrified cat. She pointed at her closet of trinkets, then told me to hide. I ran in and she shut the door made of leaves. I could see a little through the fetch, and I watched her look at the laptop in panic. She threw her robe over it just as the outsider's leader walked in. The tall one carrying a sharp spear who Zeph was terrified of, they threw back their robes and pulled off their mask to reveal a woman, more or less. If Evy was otherworldly, this lady looked like she'd step out of the grave. Her vainy skin was wrinkled in paper Her pointy chin and high cheekbones looked like they'd burst through it at any moment. And her red-rim pupils looked more like a goat or deer's eyes than a person's. Despite all that, she spoke with authority, dignity, warmth too. She drew Evy into a gnarled embrace and asked if she'd been here all day. There was trouble with outsiders, and she wanted to make sure Evy hadn't gotten involved. Evy nodded shyly.

Oui, Maman.

That's Yes, mother, if you don't know your French. The mother lifted Evy's eyes to stare into them. She shivered at her daughter's appearance, ironic since Evy looked way more normal than her.

She asked, Are you telling Mama Prudence the truth?

Evy said once more.

Oui, Maman.

Prudence nodded, satisfied. And that's when a ding came from my hidden laptop, the helpful notification I'd sent to remind me to save my work Mama Prudent's eyes jerked to the alcoholve. She stormed over and pulled off the robe that hid my computer. She lifted it up and turned to her daughter.

What have I told you about going out to the Badlands?

Evy told her she was sorry, but she couldn't help it. This was a magic box. Prudent's eye at my computer with disgust.

Then I must break its spell over you.

She raised it up to drop it into the pool of water, and I had to do something. So I burst out of my hiding place and ripped it from her arms. Prudence's breach, sounding more like a goat than a person. She held her spear to my neck, and I froze. Evy rushed up, begging for forgiveness, but Prudence told her to hush. She looked back and forth between me and her daughter. For a moment, I saw past her anger. Prudence was anxious, terrified even. Kind of like Zeph had been. She steadied her voice.

You know it's forbidden to bring an outsider into our world. Unless, of course, it's for a sacrament, for fresh blood. Dis-moi, Evangeline, that's why you've hidden him, yes? As a surprise for your dear old maman.

It felt like she was urging her daughter to agree, so she wouldn't have to punish her. Evy shot me a heartbroken look. Then she said her third. The one that sealed my fate. Prudent smiled, relieved. She let out another goat-like breach. I heard footsteps, and her troupe of warriors walked in. Prudent looked at me with a ravenous smile.

Tie the outsider her up and tell the others, 'Tonight we feast.

' If you've never been gagged, hog tired, and hauled through a swamp by a tribe of Albino mutants, well, I do not recommend it. As sunset turned the sky blood red, Mama Prudence and her Minions carried me into their village. The Shanty town seemed to grow out of the swamp, full of tree houses, rope bridges, docks, and even a fleet of canoes. Maybe they I didn't have electricity, but these folks had ingenuity. I saw all that, but I didn't see any villages. Not yet, anyway. They lug me into a massive hall. It was like Evy's chamber, built from fallen tree trunks and lattice branches, only three times the size. Torches lined the walls, but they weren't burning fire, which made sense given all the wood. Instead, those swirling green lights I'd seen earlier, the Fufole, danced above every torch. I realized it was a dining hall when I saw ornately carved wooden tables laden with fruits, vegetables, and cutlery. There was no meat, but I guess I was tonight's protein. About 100 outsiders sat at the tables. When they saw Mama Prudence, they stood, took off their animal mask, and bowed. Some were as old and scary as her.

Others, the younger ones, looked more human, like Evy. I wasn't sure what was going on with their gene pool, but I knew I wouldn't live long enough to find out. At the chamber's far side was a cave with a sinister red glow inside. The outsider set me down in front of it. Prudence pulled out a ceremonial dagger made of ivory from her robe. She knelt down and I cried out, Please don't eat me. Please don't eat me. Please don't eat me. Prudence let out a short, barking laugh.

Oh, mon petit. It's charming that you think a foul creature like you is worthy of passing through our lips, but we don't eat meat.

She looked to the cave with a trace of regret.

Our protector, however, has a different diet, and we must fulfill his sacrament to keep our clan safe.

She drew the blade across my cheek. Drops of my blood dotted her ivory knife, and she flung it into the cave. I heard a rumble and a growl. Then jerk my head around to see the shadow of giant goat horns cutting through the red light. The grunge road monster was clamoring up from his lair. He'd be the one to eat me. I started screaming for mercy, and to my shock, Mercy came. White light shone through the hall. We looked to the entrance to see Evy. She held my laptop out, brandishing the light of the screen like a beacon. Prudent started to reprimand her, but Evy told her mother to listen for once. She was sick of hiding in the swamp, and she wasn't the only one. She looked around and a few other younger members of the tribe nodded. Prudent shook her head, rattled by this whisper of rebellion. This was the way, the only way. The outside world had pushed their clan into darkness, and they'd never changed their minds about them. Evy said, No, the always could change. She pointed at me and told her I was special, a traveling bard, a wordsmith.

She held up my laptop like a Holy Grail and said that I had this magic box. With it, I could tell their story and send it to all of the outside world. People would see that they weren't evil. Then they wouldn't have to hide in the dark, feeding blood to a monster for protection. I could help them be free. Evy couldn't read, but she sure as hell could talk. I saw a flicker of hope in Prudent's eyes, like she'd just realized that life didn't have to be this way. She looked down at me.

Very well, Wordsmith. Let's see if my daughter's faith is misplaced. Either you'll make us all happy or make our monster very full.

Prudent's grabbed me by the arms and dragged me to the table. She propped me up, then Evy set my laptop down. The screen nearly blinded me. Anxiety consumed me. And down in that red cave, the grunge road monster let out a hungry grumbble. But I reminded myself, I was a storyteller. I'd spent years trying to write something that mattered. Now, here was my chance to save my skin and change lives with the power of my words. So if I didn't want to be grunge food, I had to get over my writer's block fast. Want to find out how the story went? Then tune in next week for part two. Runfool is a production of Ballin Studios, Campside Media, and Atwell Media. It is hosted and executive-produced by me, Rodney Barnes. This episode was written by Amine Ostman and produced by Abicar Adan and Lee Mangistu. Editing by Abicar Adan. Sound Director, Designer, and Mixer is Kevin Seaman. Creature vocalization by Terry Cashburn and Colette Anderson. Artwork by Jessica Clauxton-Kyner. Production support by Jeremy Bone and Cole Lacascio. Special thanks to our operations team, Doug Slawin, Ashley Warren, Sabina Mara, and Destiny Dinger. Executive producers at Balin Studios are Mr. Balin, nick Widders, and Zack Lippen.

Executive producers at At Will Media are Will Malnati and Rosie Garan. Executive producers at Campside Media are Matt Sher, Josh Dean, Vanessa Gregoriades, and Adam Hall. Thanks for listening, and see you next week.