#podcast script

[A microphone clicks on, someone is alive]

Maddix:

Hello, Hellside!

I recently got an email from one Andrea Nikols, she said she was coming through Hellside and would have something that may interest me.

She didn’t go into full detail, but she mentioned Bella and the podcast, so I doubt this is a joke. She said she wanted to meet in Park Central and give me something.

No idea what, but—

Here we go, I guess.

[Audio cuts]

[Audio cuts back]

[Maddix is walking]

MADDIX:

Eugh— it’s hot today. This lady, Andrea, messaged my number— she said Bella gave it to her, she said she couldn’t stay long, but she didn’t mind talking. So, now we’re gonna do a little interview!

Nothing else to say right now, gonna meet her and— go from there.

[Audio cuts]

[Audio cuts on]

MADDIX:

Okay, it’s recording.

ANDREA:

I just—

MADDIX:

You can just introduce yourself if you want, or we can just start.

ANDREA:

Okay, Hi. I’m Andrea Nikolas. Uhm. . . Yeah that’s kinda of it.

MADDIX:

So, can you say why you came through?

ANDREA:

Well, I was just going to my mom’s. She lives in the south and Hellside is just a quicker way to go without spending all your time on the highway.

MADDIX:

W— I meant the box, the box you brought.

ANDREA:

Oh! Yeah,

I came through to see my mom, but I got a text from Bella saying her thing and my thing may be connected. Then she told me about you.

This is full of stuff from an ex of mine, we broke up awhile back, and I’ve been needing a reason to get rid of it, but I didn’t want to throw it away.

MADDIX:

What's in it?

ANDREA:

His stuff, stuff from. . . ages ago.

He had moved in with me, and I was spring cleaning.

I was finally tidying up the attic and I found this. . . it’s one of those— I’ve always called them archive boxes. A manila box you’d see in an archive... I don’t know the real name, they look like manila folders— the color, I mean. I switched boxes by then, but y’know.

I looked through it, I didn’t recognize the box, and it seemed it was purposely hidden behind a bunch of stuff. I wasn’t sure whose it was at first.

When I went through it. . . it was all about Ryder. Pictures of him, letters from him and written for him. Documents, and a bunch of other stuff. All ranging in years from the early 1900s to mid 2010s.

I found all kinds of pictures of him, from portraits to nudes. Some look like they were done with early cameras, some were polaroids. They all looked aged and loved.

MADDIX:

Does Ryder know you found the box?

ANDREA:

It’s why he left. I asked him about it, and he didn’t have an answer.

He became quiet, he stopped talking to me entirely after a bit. Eventually he just— left.Some woman came by and he got into a car with her and I haven’t heard from him sense. A black woman with— huge hair. She looked a bit older than him, but her face was. . . interesting.

MADDIX:

What do you mean interesting?

ANDREA:

I’m not. . . sure. There was just something about her—

But, he left and didn’t even say goodbye to me.

MADDIX:

Do you think any of it’s actually from the 1900s?

ANDREA:

They have to be, it’s hard to make artificial grain that looks that real. I doubt he’d leave me for some Photoshop jobs.

MADDIX:

Who do you think the woman was? Could she have been a family member?

ANDREA:

No, all Ryder’ family was gone, from what he told me. He was open about being the only surviving member of his family.

MADDIX:

Did he— ever show odd eating patterns? Did you ever suspect him of eating odd things, especially meat?

ANDREA:

He barely ate. I’d often find him sniffing raw steaks in the fridge, but I assumed he had some kind of pica issue.

MADDIX:

Did he ever eat raw steaks?

ANDREA:

Sometimes he’d bring home these special livers from some butcher and eat them raw. He said it was— good for him. He never seemed to get sick from it.

MADDIX:

And he did eat cooked food? You’ve seen him?

ANDREA:

I have, but it was rare. He never wanted to eat with me, but he would if we had a date night.

He’d usually vomit after, I wasn’t sure if he had an eating disorder.

MADDIX:

Have you tried calling him?

ANDREA:

I have, his number is disconnected.

MADDIX:

Huh. . . have you considered filing a missing person’s report?

ANDREA:

Well, I have, but— he left on his own. He’s a consenting adult. I can’t say he’s missing if he willingly left.

MADDIX:

Did he ever get into. . . trouble?

ANDREA:

He never messed with anyone, honestly. Although. . . there was one time.

It was late, I had already gone to bed. He came crashing into the house. He broke the glass bookshelf in the hall when he came in.

I got up and found him stitching himself up with a dollar store sewing kit. He said he hadn’t cut himself on the bookshelf, but. . . he looked awful.

His cuts were horrible, he was bruised in a way I’d never seen anyone be bruised before. He looked like he’d been tortured. I tried to ask him what happened but he refused to tell me.

I told him we have to go to the hospital, and he refused.

He finished sewing himself up, and then he set up a makeshift bed in the living room.

MADDIX:

Did any of the wounds look like— bite marks?

ANDREA:

They. . . did. Now that I think about it, yes. He had bite marks on his forearm and face. .

MADDIX:

Did they scar?

ANDREA:

They did, but not how they should have. The scars were too light for just how deep the bites and cuts were.

MADDIX:

Did the cuts look messy? Like they’d been done with a blunt object?

ANDREA:

I’m not sure.

MADDIX:

Could I see the box?

ANDREA:

Yeah!

[A box is lifted from the ground and is set on the table]

[The box is opened and Maddix looks through it. A bundle of pictures are taken out]

[Maddix softly mutters as he looks through the pictures]

MADDIX:

These are all the same man. . .

ANDREA:

All Ryder.

MADDIX (Aside, describing for recording):

This one is dated back to— 1936. It’s a picture of a man standing in front of a study type chair. He is wearing an early English style 1900s suit. He is smoking a cigar. He is visibly Southeast Asian, but I’m not sure what kind.

You’re sure this is him.

ANDREA:

They all have the same beauty mark, right under his eye.

MADDIX:

How was he after the incident? When he came in and sewed himself up.

ANDREA:

He was fine, shockingly. Nothing was wrong with him after a few days.

He healed. . . freakishly fast.

MADDIX:

So, you didn’t ask anything?

ANDREA:

What would I even say to something like that?

All he would say was that nothing was wrong, and it was just a casual fight, but what kind of casual fights make you look like you got thrown into a meat grinder?

I don’t think I can stress just how badly he was cut up. Blood was everywhere. He was shredded.

MADDIX:

And he really healed like it was nothing? You didn’t question that either?

ANDREA:

It was odd, yeah. But again, what do you say to that?

It wasn’t like he got into fights often – that was the only time I can remember him coming home with wounds that serious. Anything else I can think of still seems normal.

MADDIX:

Do you mind if I look through more?

ANDREA:

Sure, I’m going to give the whole thing to you anyway. I don’t want it anymore.

[Maddix looks through the box, he pulls out some papers]

MADDIX [reading]:

Dearest [No audio]

. . .

Huh.

ANDREA:

What?

MADDIX:

I can’t. . . the name. . . wait. . . hm. . .

Ásketill. . . It says Ásketill. . .

(reading):

Through our times, we have seen that this truth of humanity is not. For there is no truth to nature. These lies man has made are not true, and I do seek truth.

Through the church we may seek truth. Truth of our nature, truth of our self. Truth of the world we have been brought to.

I am unsure if E—

[struggling to pronounce]:

Eee-she?

[reading]:

I am unsure if Eee-she has made up, as some claim, but I would not put truth in the idea. Her strayful actions have left her an enemy. She knows not what she speaks of, her words are blasphemous and cruel.

To say I am of man, damnable.

With love,

Ryder

(Confused)

Huh. . .

ANDREA:

Anything helpful?

MADDIX:

Y. . . yeah. Yeah, I think so. I’ll have to look more into it.

ANDREA:

I have to go now, sorry, but it was nice to meet you!

MADDIX:

Yeah, you too.

Could I get a ride home? I don’t have a car and dragging this home would be a bit hard.

ANDREA:

How far do you live?

MADDIX:

Like a five-minute drive.

[Audio is clicked off]

[Audio clicks on]

MADDIX:

Hello, Hellside!

I’ve been going through this box of this dude’s stuff and. . .

I found a lot. I can’t get into all of it today, but. Here’s this— I found! It’s juicy!

[reading]:

I stand at the basis of all. I stand for all I can. I stand beyond the stars and sky as I stare high at what I can. There is not nothing.

There is something. Something higher than I will ever be. As I consume the flesh of man, I see, I see what I am.

Am I to ask for forgiveness? Am I to stand with them? Those sweet damnedest of marriages. Am I truly the one who should give in?

I see as I watch her body sleep. I hunger in a way I have never hungered before. This thing, this creature, it is mine. I own this thing with the ring I placed upon its finger. Should I not get to consume?

Matrimony is upon my death, upon her birth. It is said gifts should be shared, should I not share this gift I have? Should I not let her taste the sweet divine of fertility?

I press my fingers to her swollen lips and pull with a might. Her walls bleed, and she screams awake. There, past the ring of her cervix— her womb.

I bite, I consume, I hunger.

She seems to have lost her ability to breathe, so I place the delicate taste of her own womb to her lips and she does not wake. She does not get to taste the divinity.

Well, I assume I must now consume. I eat and chew with vigor as the sweet fluids flow down my chin (Gag) and land on my now dead lover.

Flowers grow from my ears as the membrane tears and chunks of meat dissolve between my gnawing molars.

Oh, Barnaby how I wish you were here to feed with me.

. . .

. . .

. . .

[Hello?]

[Maddix?]

MADDIX:

That was— a lot!

[Nervous laughter]

Well, next time I’ll go through some more of the letters here. There seems to be a lot to this guy named Ásketill.

. . .

MADDIX:

Fuck man, her WOMB!

[Maddix gets up and walks away]

Jesus christ, he ate her fucking womb!