Episode NotesEzra was born without a tongue, but now something devious will allow him to speak for them... Urban legends meet body horror in this frightening tale!The God Tongue by Dan WilderMusic by Ray Mattishttp://raymattispresents.bandcamp.comProduced by Daniel WilderGet Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspookySupport us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsomeContact Us/Submit a Storytwitter.com/WeeklySpookyfacebook.com/WeeklySpookyWeeklySpooky@gmail.comThis episode sponsored by HenFlix.comFor everything else visit WeeklySpooky.comTranscript:Born without a tongue to grant him the power of speech, Ezra had long been the target of derision by his peers, so much so that when his beloved mother had breathed her last he abandoned the home in which he was raised and took to the hills and forests that bordered the microcosm of the World’s backwards notions that was the town of Jayden’s Cross. Once there, Ezra built himself a modest cabin, financed with his meager inheritance, where he could find solace away from the chorus of mocking voices.Living off the land, Ezra killed only that which he could consume, and his growling stomach, coupled with his barren icebox, had told him it was high time to venture out into the crisp Autumnal evening. After long, fruitless hours Ezra had seen nary a hint of prey, and though the moon hung swollen in the sky, a mist had begun to encroach upon the landscape of stoic pines that pointed like accusing fingers at the heavens. Ezra exhaled wearily and sat down at the base of the nearest pine. The miasma played seductively at his neck and chin, causing his skin to turn to gooseflesh as the fog was a great deal cooler than the air that surrounded it.Ezra closed his eyes for a moment and let the symphony of the forest fill his ears, and for minutes it did just that until his placid repose was shattered by the sound of a twig breaking that echoed through the cool air like the report of a shotgun being discharged. Ezra’s eyes snapped open and, as his gaze furtively darted to and fro, he spied majestic antlers rising from the fog. In a fluid motion, he rose to his feet and brought the sight of his Remington rifle to bear on the dark shape that stood just below the mist. Ezra squeezed the trigger sending fire and thunder forth into the night, and as soon as they appeared the antlers fell.He bolted forward through the swirling grey, which seemed to recoil from his advancing form as if it fearful of his presence, to his quarry. As he approached, the fog had now parted and refused to trespass where the beast lay. And while Ezra was unable to give voice to his shock, his slack jaw and bulging eyes more than conveyed his emotions, for while he expected to find a stag he instead found a caricature of a man, albeit a man with antlers.Ezra kneeled and rolled the creature on its back; its lifeless eyes were large, dark and set wide upon a face covered in course black fur. It wore little in the way of clothing, just a simple robe from which extended limbs that resembled a dog’s leg that ended in long tapered fingers tipped in crimson nails. It was in one such appendage that the creature clutched what at first appeared to Ezra to be a smooth ebony stone. He reached for the object and found it malleable and warm; more flesh than mineral. As he turned the artifact over and over in his palm the mist began to slowly creep back…and with it came the inhuman wailing.Ezra panicked as the mist around him produced it’s litany of grief, which resulted in a mad flight through the dense pines. As he ran, Ezra could feel the miasma strike his legs as it began to solidify into long, lashing tendrils. As if that wasn’t disconcerting enough, the wailing had now transformed into protracted screams of pure rage.Onward he flew, tripping and struggling as the fog continued its battery. Finally he saw the familiar outline of his cabin in the clearing just beyond the forest. He threw his weight against the unlocked front door an