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Sulepod, episode 962

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for February 14th, 2025,

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Hemeridge, by Cyrus Amelia

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Fisher, narrated by A.J. Fitzwater,

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hosted by Cat Day, audio

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by Chelsea Davis. Hey everyone,

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hope you're doing okay. Happy

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Valentine's Day. I'm Cat,

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Assistant Editor at Sulepod, your

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host for this week, and

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I'm excited to tell you

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that for this week, we

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have hemorrhage, by Cyrus Amelia

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Fisher. This story was originally

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published in the Book of

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Queer Saints, volume 2. Cyrus

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Amelia Fisher writes queer tales

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of shipwrecks, mycelium and horrors

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of the flesh. After years

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of driving around the United

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States in a beat-up minivan,

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they finally returned to the

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mossy fins of their birth

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in the Pacific Northwest. Now

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they wile away the

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hours, communing with their

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fungal hive mind, and

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writing about cannibalism. Naturally

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they also love to cook.

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A.J. Fitzwater is a glittery

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lava lamp from Christchurch, New

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Zealand. Their books are the

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World War II Land Girls'

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Shape Shifter Novella No Man's

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Land and the Lesbian Capibara

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Pirate Collection, the voyages of

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Sinrak the Dapper. They like bow

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ties and soft pillows, and they

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tweet A. A.J. Fitzwater Before we

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start today, a small warning.

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Obviously we are a horror

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podcast but this week's episode

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contains especially strong horror scenes.

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It also references self-harm, drug

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abuse, addiction, physical abuse and

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coercive control. Basically this one's

1:48

pretty tough. It's a brilliant

1:51

story and I'm very happy to

1:53

be running it but it's also a

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little bit tough so if you're not

1:57

up for it maybe give this one

1:59

a miss. We'll be back

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soon. Now that's

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been said, we have

2:06

a story for

2:08

you, and we

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promise you. It's

2:13

true. Hemeridge by

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Cyrus Amelia Fisher,

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narrated by

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A.J. Fitzwater.

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It's a dumb fight

2:26

to pick. but I only

2:28

learn that later. By the time

2:31

they drag me out the back

2:33

door of the bar, my face

2:35

feels the way a Picasso painting

2:38

looks, or rearranged, and probably the

2:40

wrong colours. Brit swears like

2:42

a sneezing fit. Her fingers

2:45

hover over the swollen mass

2:47

where my face ought to be, as

2:49

if she can squeeze the

2:51

swelling out and find me

2:53

underneath. They're the last words

2:55

she says before leaving me propped

2:57

against the alley wall to make

3:00

sure that she isn't banned for

3:02

life from the only dyke bar

3:04

in town. They've been banning

3:06

me from the joint for years.

3:08

It's the best place in town

3:10

to rustle up some skin-on-skin. Whether

3:13

it's a girl who doesn't ask

3:15

me about my boyfriend or a

3:17

brisk uppercut to the jaw. On

3:19

a good night, it might be both. I

3:21

pluck my last smoke from my

3:24

breast pocket, leaving bloody streaks

3:26

on my clothes as I

3:28

dig out a lighter, my

3:30

swollen fingers can't even flip

3:32

open. I sit there for a long

3:34

time after that, and lit

3:36

cigarettes squeezed between my

3:38

lips. I'm not thinking, or

3:41

feeling anything in particular.

3:43

When I realize, I'm not alone.

3:45

Without turning my head, I slice

3:47

up the figure at the end of

3:49

the alley. tangled here,

3:51

ill-fitting clothes, probably

3:53

female. She has the look of

3:56

someone whose body has started

3:58

to eat itself. smiling,

4:01

and that's the worst

4:03

of it. If you hear to

4:05

mug me, I say

4:07

around the cigarette, you're

4:09

about to be

4:12

disappointed. I wasn't planning

4:14

on it. Good. I'm very

4:17

broke. Her eyes flick

4:19

over my swollen face.

4:21

Broke or broken. Funny.

4:24

I wiggle the cigarette

4:26

like a tongue. Mind

4:28

giving me a light? She

4:30

crouches at my side and

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takes the lighter from my

4:34

hands. The brush of her skin

4:37

is hot, almost feverish, but

4:39

maybe I'm just freezing.

4:41

The flame clicks to life

4:44

and licks my cigarette cherry

4:46

red. I don't offer her one.

4:49

Mostly because I'm not sure when

4:51

I'll get my next pack,

4:53

but also because I'm an

4:55

asshole. Thanks. I say, with no

4:58

depth of feeling. The smoke is

5:00

bitter on my tongue. I gingerly

5:02

take the cigarette out of my

5:05

mouth to spit some blood on

5:07

the bricks. Most of it ends

5:09

up on my jacket. My

5:11

new friend watches the

5:13

spectacle crouched too close at

5:15

my side. I don't feel so good.

5:18

I announce 50 chance my brain

5:20

is bleeding out. Sounds like

5:22

a problem. Only because

5:24

it's taking so long. She

5:27

tilts her head. I might be able

5:29

to help with that. From

5:31

the way she says it, I know

5:33

she's not offering medical

5:35

attention. She's hovering just

5:37

on the edge of my vision,

5:39

and I can't turn my sore

5:42

neck to face her. She looks

5:44

strange from this angle,

5:46

like that old optical

5:48

illusion. Look at it one way,

5:50

and you see the maiden. Look

5:52

at it the other, and

5:54

the hag's mouth slipped to

5:56

her throat. I always saw the

5:59

hag first. Try to remember

6:01

if I've taken something tonight

6:03

already. The name washed down with

6:06

a jack and beer and half

6:08

a bottle of wine, a baking

6:10

soda volcano just waiting for

6:12

the vinegar. I already know

6:15

this can only end two ways. I

6:17

can follow this down to the bottom,

6:19

or I can call my brother

6:21

and let him help me. He

6:23

always knows what to do, what to

6:25

say, how to get me back on

6:27

track. But the thing about

6:29

being off the rails is

6:32

that you never know where

6:34

you're going to end up.

6:36

No such thing is the end

6:38

of the line. My place is

6:41

just down the street, I

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say. Her smile widens. I

6:45

see teeth. It's a long drop

6:47

through a dark place before

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I wake up feeling no

6:52

pain at all. That in

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itself is terrifying. On

6:57

impulse alone, I reach for the

6:59

nightstand where I keep the painkillers.

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My hand stops halfway, trailing

7:04

listless in tension. I can't

7:06

remember opening my eyes without

7:08

feeling the walls of my

7:11

mind falling in, cultivating hangovers

7:13

because they're less toxic than

7:15

the thoughts that swarm over

7:17

the inside of my skull like

7:19

greasy black cockroaches. My

7:21

family inheritance passed down

7:23

for generations. We eat. We

7:26

eat. Roach Poison. We don't

7:28

call the exterminator. This

7:31

morning, the thoughts are still.

7:33

On reflex, my brain

7:35

begins to pick its

7:37

way through the detritus of

7:40

the night before, trying to

7:42

prop up an explanation. I'd

7:44

rather just lie here in the

7:47

debris field. No hangover, no

7:49

wounds, or pain, which is

7:52

what matters. No feeling like

7:54

I'm wrapped so tightly around my

7:56

bones they might break. Thin arms

7:58

slip around my... shoulders from behind.

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You're awake. I lie still with

8:03

my eyes locked on the opposite

8:05

wall. My flimsy memories of the

8:08

night before are suddenly a lot

8:10

more interesting. Thought you'd have cleared

8:13

out already, I say to the

8:15

cracking paint. I'm still here. I'm

8:17

getting that impression. We're both still

8:20

wearing our clothes, which gives me

8:22

some idea of what we didn't

8:25

do. I remember her offering me

8:27

my next hit, going back to

8:29

the apartment, then absence. I feel

8:32

good, I say, hardly believing the

8:34

words as I say them, better

8:37

than good. What did you give

8:39

me? Her chuckle stirs the hair

8:41

on the back of my neck.

8:44

She smells old and unwholesome, mildew

8:46

and dust, but if that's the

8:48

price of feeling this good. I'll

8:51

roll over and breathe in deep.

8:53

Do you want me to tell

8:56

you? she asks. Or show you.

8:58

Can I afford to have you

9:00

show me? Oh, not at all.

9:03

Her fingers are drawing circles on

9:05

the back of my neck now.

9:08

I stare at the clock, not

9:10

yet 1030. I know from experience

9:12

that dragging the party from night

9:15

into morning never ends well. And

9:17

I'm feeling much better now. Feeling...

9:20

almost normal. I don't need it.

9:22

I should send her on her

9:24

way, get myself cleaned up, do

9:27

something productive so that when Michael

9:29

gets back at the end of

9:31

the week, he won't look at

9:34

me like I'm everything he expected.

9:36

Do it anyway, I say, and

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she does. I feel something crawling

9:41

over my neck on my scalp.

9:43

Her fingers lace into my hair

9:46

and then deeper. The questions of

9:48

what she's doing, of whether I

9:51

should be scared, drain out of...

9:53

my mind and leave nothing behind.

9:55

I bleed out the back of

9:58

my head and into her hand,

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a warm wet trickle, a rush

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of joy. I don't even feel

10:05

the needle. Oh my God, I

10:07

breathed a long time later. What

10:10

was that? She folds me in

10:12

her thin arms like the curled

10:15

legs of a dead spider. You're

10:17

bind, she says. Come again? I

10:19

think about reaching up to feel

10:22

for an injection mark. Thoughts, memories,

10:24

sensations. The curve of her smile

10:26

is a knife against my neck.

10:29

They've been bothering you, haven't they?

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Runs in the family. My mom

10:34

to drink, my dad to chewing

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on a handgun, left my brother

10:38

and me to find the mess

10:41

too. I stop. Crown. I don't

10:43

talk about that, I remind myself.

10:46

It's okay, she says. She sounds

10:48

very kind, but I can't see

10:50

her face. You can't lie to

10:53

me anymore. I took that away.

10:55

So keep talking. I opened my

10:58

mouth to tell it a fuck

11:00

off, or at least, that's what

11:02

I meant to do. I mean

11:05

to roll over, slide out of

11:07

bed, walk to the door, and

11:09

order her out. But I'm still

11:12

there. in bed beside her, feeling

11:14

warm and comfortable and a little

11:17

bit afraid. Her fingers curl into

11:19

my hair like she's grabbing the

11:21

scruff of a dog. This apartment

11:24

is my brothers, I find myself

11:26

saying. He found me at rock

11:29

bottom, living in some basement with

11:31

a bunch of people whose names

11:33

I didn't know, messing myself up

11:36

as badly as I could. He

11:38

gave me a place to stay,

11:41

said he'd help me get back

11:43

on my feet. That was three

11:45

years ago. He pays for groceries.

11:48

He pays the rent. Sometimes I

11:50

take money out of his wallet

11:52

and he leaves me and I

11:55

fucking hate him for that. By

11:57

the end my face is burning

12:00

in shame. I'm shaking and I

12:02

can't stop the words from spilling

12:04

out my mouth. Thank you. Her

12:07

voice is so kind. I feel

12:09

her fingers slip away from the

12:12

back of my head and just

12:14

like that I have a body

12:16

again. I dive out of bed

12:19

stumbling on my hands and knees

12:21

until I can haul myself to

12:24

my feet. My legs feel like

12:26

the tendons have been slashed. But

12:28

it's just fear making my movement

12:31

stupid. I think I'm whole. I

12:33

think I'm myself What the fuck

12:35

did you give me? My back

12:38

is to the wall all instinct.

12:40

It's dark in here. The blackout

12:43

curtains let in only a gash

12:45

of sunlight I can see the

12:47

outline of the bed a jumble

12:50

of shapes in the grimy darkness

12:52

Something flickers the sound of slithering

12:55

movement over the sheets My breath

12:57

comes fast and high in my

12:59

chest as the woman in bed

13:02

sits up. Her shadow moves against

13:04

the light, shriveled flesh on bone.

13:07

Don't be scared, Kara. A flutter

13:09

of terror disguised as a laugh.

13:11

How do you know my... He

13:14

told me. You might not remember.

13:16

I took a lot last night.

13:18

But you'll come to understand. We

13:21

have plenty of time. The smell

13:23

is stronger now, like stagnant water,

13:26

thick and murky. I take a

13:28

shaky breath through my mouth. I'm

13:30

calling the cops. You're not doing

13:33

that. Thank you, I'm not! For

13:35

a long time I'm standing there,

13:38

unmoving, staring at her. The phone

13:40

is in my pocket. All I

13:42

have to do is reach for

13:45

it, press the numbers, let the

13:47

call ring. They'll show up, even

13:50

if I don't say anything, won't

13:52

they. If I can't say anything?

13:54

My hand doesn't budge. It's dark,

13:57

but I know the woman is

13:59

smiling. It's okay, she

14:01

says with that same empty

14:03

grin. I can explain. Then

14:06

she's moving, out of the

14:08

bed, right in front of

14:10

me, so fast. Her hand

14:12

catches my wrist as I

14:14

lunge for the doorknob. Get

14:16

the fuck away from me!

14:18

Years of bad living have

14:21

washed my muscles out, and

14:23

the grip she has on

14:25

my arm feels strong enough

14:27

to break bone. I shout,

14:29

lash out with my nails,

14:31

but her other hand slides

14:33

up around the back of

14:35

my skull and I... Blink.

14:38

There, she says. Her fingers

14:40

are still in my hair,

14:42

rubbing small circles into the

14:44

back of my head. I

14:46

feel strange, as if I've

14:48

fallen over without moving, except

14:50

she's holding me up against

14:52

the wall. I taste something

14:55

earthy and sour, but my

14:57

mouth is empty and so

14:59

very dry. What did you

15:01

do? It's not really a

15:03

question. I close my eyes

15:05

again. trying to find my

15:07

way. You were just saying

15:09

how I was welcome to

15:12

stay with you, she replies.

15:14

Her words don't drag up

15:16

any arguments, so I figure

15:18

they must be true. But

15:20

it's strange, isn't it? The

15:22

way she's petting my hair?

15:24

I should ask her to

15:26

stop. But then her fingers

15:29

twist again, and the words

15:31

slip away and scatter. It

15:33

feels nice, actually, like a

15:35

limb slowly falling asleep. Her

15:37

fingers trailing over the bones

15:39

of my skull. What's your

15:41

brother's name? Michael. And when

15:43

will Michael be back? Next

15:46

Sunday. My skin crawls off

15:48

my bones everywhere except where

15:50

her hand is anchored to

15:52

my scalp. I feel heavy,

15:54

tired, a happiness that taps

15:56

like ants over my veins.

15:58

What is this? I'm just...

16:00

Clearing out the things you

16:03

don't need anymore. Something in

16:05

my skull shifts, rearranges. My

16:07

mind flows away with nothing

16:09

to replace it, like the

16:11

water in a funnel. And

16:13

this woman, this thing, is

16:15

waiting at the other end.

16:17

Why am I not afraid?

16:20

Horse, low. I sound afraid.

16:22

I'm taking that away too,

16:24

she smiles. You can call

16:26

me Name. Her hand slides

16:28

over to cut my cheek,

16:30

her thumb stroking my skin.

16:32

I think I feel something

16:35

on it, movement like tiny

16:37

hairs, sillier. We're going to

16:39

know each other very well,

16:41

Kara. I try to scream.

16:43

She plucks it from my

16:45

mind before it can reach

16:47

my lips. I stand there

16:49

with my mouth limp and

16:52

packed with silence, and for

16:54

a while she drains me

16:56

dry. Bonsai,

17:00

I prune away the thoughts

17:02

that lead in the wrong

17:04

direction until there's only one

17:06

direction left. Name Tilke had

17:09

to stare at me indulgently

17:11

through her lashes, her eyes

17:13

like two lamps in the

17:15

dark hollows of her skull.

17:17

It's your memories that will

17:19

sustain me the longest kara.

17:21

Surely there are some you

17:23

wouldn't mind getting rid of.

17:25

I'm frozen in my cheer

17:28

in my mind, my body.

17:30

watching Name get out of

17:32

her chair is like watching

17:34

a spider slowly uncool its

17:36

legs. She saunters around the

17:38

table to me, her fingers

17:40

trailing over its surface until

17:42

they slide up my wrist,

17:44

my arm, my neck. My

17:47

chest rises and falls like

17:49

a bicycle pump, building pressure

17:51

with nowhere to go. I

17:53

don't know whether I can't

17:55

move because of something she's

17:57

done to me, or whether

17:59

it's fear alone. Let's find

18:01

out!" she whispers. my ear.

18:03

And then she's inside me

18:06

again. The first time I

18:08

ever shot up. My hands

18:10

shake as I try to

18:12

help guide the needle into

18:14

a vein. My first girlfriend

18:16

too high to push the

18:18

plunger. Then I'm throwing up

18:20

against a wall five years

18:22

later. The wall I only

18:25

realised is outside Michael's building

18:27

when he comments on it

18:29

later. I'm selling the necklace

18:31

he gave me for my

18:33

18th birthday. The pendant shaped

18:35

like the boots of Hermes.

18:37

Finally, you are free. With

18:39

the money I buy a

18:41

hit that dissipates before the

18:44

end of the night. Michael

18:46

notices it's gone, and says

18:48

nothing. I feel Nama in

18:50

my memories like fingers trailing

18:52

over the spines as some

18:54

awful and unreadable library. When

18:56

the fingers withdraw, part of

18:58

me is gone. There's a

19:00

vast glowing contentment in its

19:03

wake, swelling like rot inside

19:05

of me. I can't help

19:07

but sink into it, to

19:09

cling to what feels good,

19:11

even though I know it's

19:13

poison. You see? Name sees

19:15

against my hair. I find

19:17

myself leaning into the touch,

19:20

even as I begin to

19:22

understand what she is going

19:24

to do to me. Her

19:26

hand slide down to my

19:28

shoulders, grip tight. How many

19:30

nights have you laying awake,

19:32

trapped in your own head?

19:34

Namaya whispers. Your dreams, your

19:36

memories, your thoughts all turning

19:39

against you. How long have

19:41

you looked for the one

19:43

thing could take it all

19:45

away? I feel her breath

19:47

behind my ear, curling in

19:49

the shape of a smile.

19:51

It was me, Kara. It

19:53

always was. I closed my

19:55

eyes hard. The tears burned

19:58

my eyes like gasoline. This

20:00

isn't what I wanted. No,

20:02

but it's what you're reaching

20:04

for. She leaves me alone

20:06

after that, slipping into Michael's

20:08

room. Through the open door,

20:10

out the corner of my

20:12

eyes, I can see her

20:14

flipping through his books, examining

20:17

his clothes. As soon as

20:19

I'm able, I haul myself

20:21

out of the chair and

20:23

stumble into my room, dragging

20:25

the sheet off my bed

20:27

and heading for the bathroom.

20:29

I climb into the tub

20:31

with it wrapped around me,

20:33

shivering, exhausted even though it's

20:36

day. My eyes are riveted

20:38

on the door. which Michael

20:40

took the lock off after

20:42

the time I nearly drowned

20:44

in my own vomit in

20:46

here. I wait for it

20:48

to swing open so I

20:50

can fight or run or

20:52

just face what's coming. But

20:55

darkness pushes in from whichever

20:57

corner I'm not looking. And

20:59

before long it swallows me

21:01

whole. Time sloughs off me

21:03

like a layer of dead

21:05

skin. I sleep in the

21:07

bathtub. Name takes up residence

21:09

in Michael's room like mold

21:11

colonizing the walls. She strips

21:14

the numbers off the telephone,

21:16

takes the handles off the

21:18

doors, makes them meaningless to

21:20

my pillaged brain. I'm surrounded

21:22

by material ghosts, things I

21:24

can see but not touch

21:26

or understand. When I'm not

21:28

exhausted and exuberant with the

21:30

void Name's fingers leave behind,

21:33

I pace the apartment with

21:35

one hand on the wall.

21:37

I spent hours with my

21:39

hand on the doorknob, willing

21:41

myself to turn it. I

21:43

can't even feel it under

21:45

my fingers. Much worse is

21:47

knowing what will happen when

21:50

the door does open, as

21:52

soon as Michael gets home.

21:54

I can see myself standing

21:56

across the room, a vacant

21:58

grin fixed on my face

22:00

when Name has left it,

22:02

watching him shut the door

22:04

behind him. I know I

22:06

have to avoid that, no

22:09

matter what. The trick is

22:11

to stop her from realizing

22:13

what I have planned. And

22:15

so I offer pieces of

22:17

myself more freely, before she

22:19

can root around in my

22:21

head. I lay back on

22:23

the couch with my head

22:25

in her lap, and close

22:28

my eyes. Quill the way

22:30

my skin prickles pleasantly as

22:32

her fingers slide over it.

22:34

I offer up the shocking

22:36

cold as I jumped into

22:38

my neighbour's sprinklers as a

22:40

kid. the burn of Jack

22:42

Daniels and the sour tang

22:44

of Byle as I drank

22:47

myself into new stupidity behind

22:49

the high school gym. She

22:51

takes it all. I think

22:53

I could give her anything

22:55

and she'd swallow it whole.

22:57

There's something almost comforting in

22:59

knowing there's no part of

23:01

me she finds unpalatable. Who

23:03

else would say the name?

23:06

In those moments I can

23:08

almost forget why I shouldn't

23:10

want to feed here. that

23:12

each bite I offer is

23:14

of my own flesh. There's

23:16

a thick, matted silence behind

23:18

Michael's door. The room that

23:20

has become Nameh's own. Nameh

23:22

had been taken food in

23:25

until she says it wasn't

23:27

worth it. There isn't enough

23:29

left. After that, she eats

23:31

nothing but my mind. And

23:33

I eat the rotting banana

23:35

peals at the bottom of

23:37

the garbage. She strokes my

23:39

hair as I do. I'm

23:41

chasing the false hope of

23:44

half-eaten candy bars, abandoned in

23:46

the back of the coat

23:48

closet, when I find the

23:50

mirrors. I never questioned why

23:52

Name took them all down,

23:54

hardly even noticed. And yet,

23:56

here they are, leaning against

23:58

the back of the closet

24:00

with their faces turned to

24:03

the wall. I pushed the

24:05

coats away like clearing the

24:07

branches in a forest. The

24:09

mirror is as tall as

24:11

I am, wood-backed and leaning

24:13

on the wall. My muscles

24:15

are weak, but I find

24:17

the strength to turn it

24:20

around. That's when I see

24:22

the monster. I stare at

24:24

the body for a long

24:26

time. My body, the new

24:28

thing that I wear, jutting

24:30

bones and dark patches and

24:32

bruises that will never heal,

24:34

my dead hand held against

24:36

my chest. Panic flares in

24:39

my eyes like a match

24:41

to gasoline. I watch it

24:43

start to consume. Everything. Cara.

24:45

She stands in the doorway,

24:47

watching me. Clinical. Interested. Please,

24:49

I whisper. I can't take

24:51

my eyes off the reflection.

24:53

Watching in horror as its

24:55

lips move to parrot my

24:58

words. Please, don't take any

25:00

more. I'll give you anything.

25:02

Just stop. What do you

25:04

have left to offer me?

25:06

My mouth opens and closes

25:08

like I'm gnawing on a

25:10

gamey question. But it's a

25:12

question I've answered before. I'm

25:14

good at getting what I

25:17

want, especially when I have

25:19

nothing to trade for it.

25:21

I've stolen and pawned and

25:23

borrowed and cheated for so

25:25

much less than my life.

25:27

I could bring you someone

25:29

else. My voice shakes as

25:31

I say it, and I

25:33

can't meet her eyes all

25:36

my own. Someone... to take

25:38

my place. Namay steps up

25:40

behind me, a shadow hanging

25:42

over my reflection shoulder. You

25:44

know I can't let you

25:46

leave. The mirror calls me

25:48

back, the thing inside it,

25:50

waiting to become me. I'm

25:52

on the edge of something

25:55

terrible, opening up on every

25:57

side, gone. I don't want

25:59

to die. I want this

26:01

to stop more than I

26:03

want anything in my life.

26:05

and I've offered worse for

26:07

less. I remember a face

26:09

in a dark doorway disappearing

26:11

into glittering darkness. Who was

26:14

he to me? What do

26:16

I owe him? A number,

26:18

a word? But what do

26:20

they mean? I know I

26:22

love him, but I don't

26:24

know why. I wouldn't have

26:26

to leave, I whisper. Michael

26:28

is coming back. I hate

26:30

the words as they leave

26:33

my mouth, but their taste

26:35

is familiar. Michael is strong.

26:37

I saved him so many

26:39

times. He owes me this

26:41

much. I just... Need more

26:43

time. I can still save

26:45

us both. A memory. I

26:47

can't reach throbs behind my

26:50

eyes. Oh, Kara, don't you

26:52

remember? Namere watches my face,

26:54

tasting the thoughts which move

26:56

across it like storm clouds.

26:58

I offer nothing but silent

27:00

and comprehension. He got back

27:02

three weeks ago. Slowly. Inevitably,

27:04

my mind turns towards the

27:06

door in the apartment that

27:09

Name never lets me open.

27:11

The one that leads to

27:13

his room. I clutch my

27:15

dead hand closer to my

27:17

chest and think about a

27:19

brain bled dry. Have I

27:21

heard something moving inside, shuffling,

27:23

breathing, an empty animal sound?

27:25

Can I hear it even

27:28

now? How many times do

27:30

you think we've had this

27:32

conversation? And afterwards, each time,

27:34

you beg me to forget.

27:36

You're lying. It's the only

27:38

thing I can say. She

27:40

takes my good hand in

27:42

hers and leads me to

27:44

his door. Her hand touches

27:47

the handle. It's not even

27:49

locked. Inside the darkness is

27:51

close and snarled and... deans

27:53

and the smell God the

27:55

smell urine and sweet and

27:57

body, stale ear left to

27:59

ferment. I'm back in the

28:01

house, in the basement where

28:03

Michael found me, the one

28:06

I meant to die in.

28:08

Name reaches over to flip

28:10

on the light, and all

28:12

at once the mound of

28:14

clothes piled on the bed,

28:16

the stains running down the

28:18

mattress, the arm, so thin,

28:20

twisted at an odd angle

28:22

on the covers. A single

28:25

fly walks up the skin

28:27

and stops just below the

28:29

elbow. I'm not sure when

28:31

I fall to my knees.

28:33

There's nothing left in my

28:35

stomach to drag up. I

28:37

can't stare at the thing

28:39

that was my brother. The

28:41

person I sold. Peace by

28:44

peace. And an effort to

28:46

save myself. Instead, I look

28:48

at Name. She stares down

28:50

at me. Her fingers playing

28:52

with my hair. I reach

28:54

up to tangle them with

28:56

my own. and slowly guide

28:58

them to the place at

29:00

the back of my head.

29:03

Looking away is unthinkable. Her

29:05

eyes are already devouring me.

29:07

With her other hand she

29:09

caps my cheek, and I

29:11

can't help but lean into

29:13

the touch. Take the rest,

29:15

I whisper. Her

29:17

breath should smell like fetid

29:20

meat, but when she lowers

29:22

her lips over mine, I

29:25

taste the mint of my

29:27

own toothpaste. She takes away

29:30

my tongue. It's a heavy

29:32

lump in my mouth as

29:35

she kisses me, as limp

29:37

and dead as my hand.

29:40

My legs go next, sagging

29:42

where I kneel. She holds

29:45

me up and takes my

29:47

eyes, leaving me in the

29:50

darkness. Every last piece of

29:52

me. unravels into her. Just

29:55

one last fragment. A memory

29:57

that flees from nothing like

30:00

a photograph taking the flame.

30:02

My body locks up. Lightning

30:05

strike agony. and the smell

30:07

of fallen leaves, the first

30:10

tentative brush of true cold

30:12

on that autumn afternoon. When

30:14

she takes the rest, it's

30:17

a benediction. Well done. You

30:19

survived another story. What did

30:22

you think of, hemorrhage, by

30:24

Cyrus Amelia Fisher? If you're

30:27

a patron subscriber, we encourage

30:29

you to pop over to

30:32

our Discord Channel and tell

30:34

us. I... think about vampires

30:37

a lot. Not specific vampires.

30:39

Not Dracula or Mena Harker

30:42

or Lost Boys David or

30:44

Buffy's Drucilla or Spry, maybe

30:47

I do sometimes think about

30:49

Spike, I mean, Spike. Where

30:52

was I? Oh yeah, right.

30:54

Not specific vampires, but rather

30:57

what they represent. Why we

30:59

love this very particular kind

31:02

of monster. Beautiful, powerful, charming,

31:04

and hypnotic. Selfish, uncaring, and

31:07

this is the terrible bit.

31:09

Capable of stealing a part

31:12

of you and of making

31:14

you just like them. It

31:17

is a metaphor. It is

31:19

a warning. And the warning,

31:22

or part of it, anyway,

31:24

is this. Beware the alluring

31:26

seductive person, or thing, that

31:29

draws you in and sucks

31:31

you dry, and then either

31:34

turns you into something just

31:36

like them, or more often

31:39

leaves you in the gutter,

31:41

like so much detritus. Here,

31:44

Namer, which is he man

31:46

backwards. Is that deliberate? I

31:49

have no idea. Doesn't drink

31:51

blood, but rather memories, thoughts

31:54

and feelings. She leaves Kara

31:56

feeling so much better because

31:59

she's no longer suffocating under

32:01

the weight of the contents

32:04

of her own head. Kara

32:06

realizes right from the first

32:09

time just how dangerous that

32:11

is and she accepts it

32:14

anyway because mental peace is

32:16

one hell of a drug.

32:19

The gift of being human

32:21

is the ability to think.

32:24

The curse of being human

32:26

is the ability to think.

32:31

This isn't what I wanted No,

32:33

but it is what you've been

32:35

reaching for Oh God how many

32:37

times have we heard that you

32:39

don't always get what you want,

32:41

but you often get what you

32:43

need and here This is horror

32:46

and because it is horror it's

32:48

reversed Cara gets what she wants

32:50

what she wants and it is

32:52

what she wants and it is

32:54

what she wants and it is

32:56

what she wants and it is

32:58

what she wants and it is

33:00

what she wants and it is

33:03

not what she needs and she

33:05

knows that but she can't stop

33:07

it's too hard to stop she

33:09

gives up everything to whatever Nima

33:11

is because it's so so much

33:13

easier to sink down than to

33:15

fight up addiction does this to

33:18

people people do this to other

33:20

people pick your metaphor pick your

33:22

metaphor It doesn't matter. This is

33:24

horror and there is no happy

33:26

ending here. Kara's fate was sealed

33:28

from the opening paragraphs. One fairly

33:30

well-established theory of storytelling is that

33:33

it allows us to explore dangerous

33:35

and difficult situations and work out

33:37

how we might cope with them

33:39

or how we might avoid them.

33:41

I don't know. But I know

33:43

we're all here now, listening to

33:45

this and there will be another

33:47

day tomorrow and another day. after

33:50

that. So stay with us. Keep

33:52

putting one foot in front of

33:54

the other. Keep going forwards. Keep

33:56

fighting up. An incredible story that

33:58

I have been thinking about ever

34:00

since I first read it. Thank

34:02

you, Cyrus Amelia Fisher. On to

34:05

the subject. of subscribing and support.

34:07

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