CZM Book Club: Kushtaka, by Mathilda Zeller

Summary

---

It Could Happen Here – CZM Book Club: Kushtaka by Mathilda Zeller

Host: Margaret Killjoy
Date: October 5, 2025
Podcast: Cool Zone Media / iHeartPodcasts

---

Episode Overview

This episode of the Cool Zone Media Book Club, hosted by Margaret Killjoy, features a detailed reading and discussion of “Kushtaka” by Mathilda Zeller, a short story from the 2023 collection Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology. As part of "Spooky Month," the episode explores the intersection of Indigenous folklore and horror, using the Kushtaka creature from Alaska Native legend to examine the monstrous underpinnings of colonialism and gendered violence. Margaret reads the full story aloud and closes with thoughtful commentary on its themes and narrative craft.

---

Key Discussion Points and Insights

Introduction and Set-Up

• Margaret’s Book Club Philosophy (02:10)

  • Applies a fun, self-deprecating tone: “This is the only book club where you don't have to do the reading because I do it for you.”
  • Introduces the month’s theme: Indigenous horror stories.
  • Gives content warnings for “Spooky Month,” noting some gore and unsettling content.

• Story Context (03:00)

  • “Kushtaka” is introduced as a “creature feature and a slasher centering around a figure, the Kushtaka, which is common in the folklore of people native to so-called Alaska.”
  • Listeners encouraged to pay attention to how the author plays with narrative perspective.

---

The Story: Plot Highlights

Note: The story is read aloud by Margaret, blending first-person narration and voiced dialogue.

Family Pressure and Community Context (03:20–07:00)

• Protagonist is pressured by her mother to become pregnant by a wealthy outsider, Hank Ferriman, for financial security:
  • Margaret, reading mother’s advice: “You don’t have to love him, just make his baby, Mama said…” (03:30)
• Protagonist’s resistance is palpable; she wants autonomy and education instead.

Hints of Danger and Folklore (07:00–13:00)

• The mining accident brings folklore into everyday reality:
  • Anna, the family elder, warns the miners are disturbing Sedna, an underworld goddess.
  • The injuries are gruesome – “torn up everywhere” – suggesting supernatural causes.

Predatory Outsiders and Threat Building (17:48–21:00)

• Hank Ferriman, an exploitative white outsider, hires the protagonist as domestic help at his lodge.
• During a drive in darkness, Hank derisively demands an “Indian story,” prompting an eerie tale about the Kushtaka:
  • “They appear to us, taking on the appearances of those we love. They try to get us to go with them.” (19:10)
• The supernatural intrudes—the protagonist sees a doppelgänger Kushtaka of herself in the headlights, terrifying and inhuman.

Escalation to Violence (21:00–32:00)

• At the lodge, Hank’s cultural appropriation (stealing Indigenous spears and utensils) further angers the protagonist.
• The party devolves into chaos as the Kushtaka attacks, leaving a scene of horrific carnage witnessed by the protagonist hiding in a bathroom.
  • Margaret’s narration of the aftermath is grisly: “There were pieces of men, entrails of men... I pressed my shoulders between my knees and vomited.” (32:00)

Climax and Ambiguity (32:00–42:00)

• Protagonist flees with her grandfather’s spear and her Ana’s ulu, pursued by the Kushtaka and Hank’s now violent, racist son, Buck.
• In a final confrontation, the Kushtaka is both victim and monster; the lines blur:
  • Buck tries to kill the Kushtaka, but the protagonist intervenes, torn between vengeance and mercy.
  • The Kushtaka ultimately kills Buck; the protagonist’s identity momentarily merges with the creature.

Resolution and Thematic Reflection (42:00–45:00)

• The protagonist and Panna gather the stolen artifacts to return to Ana, the sense of reclaiming what was lost amidst violence.
• The final moments evoke a complicated catharsis: “His freshly dead body smelled good. So good I was sure the wolves would find him soon… Come on, Panna. I think I have your Anna's ulu on that dog sled. She'll be wanting it back.” (44:55)

---

Memorable Quotes and Moments

• Margaret on book clubs: “Only the cringe are free. That shouldn’t be our tagline here at Cool Zone Media Book Club, but it kind of could be.” (02:25)
• On Indigenous horror: “As you listen, you should keep an ear out for what Mathilda is doing with perspective.” (03:10)
• Kushtaka myth summary: “They appear to us, taking on the appearances of those we love. They try to get us to go with them. To go with them where? I don’t know.” (19:10)
• On colonial violence: “It’s Spooky Month, where the real monster was colonialism all along. You all probably could have seen that coming… we all know colonialism was the real monster all along.” (45:05)
• Margaret post-story reflection:
  • “I like when stories have kind of like clear metaphors, but not quite like beating you over the head metaphors and how you can interpret this a little bit more or less literally… when things are sort of uncertain, sometimes it feels lazy—but not here.” (45:20)
  • “Hazel… really loves how Matilda the author builds tension so seamlessly… weaving routine horrors like extractive energy and racialized sexual violence in with the supernatural stuff. It sort of unnormalizes that stuff and brings the horror that underpins much of our current systems into focus.” (46:10)

---

Commentary & Critical Insights

Margaret’s Analysis (45:20–47:00)

• Praises the story’s blending of internal and external horror, noting how the Kushtaka acts as both literal monster and metaphor for the way violence and trauma can be internalized.
• Highlights the skillful layering of everyday dangers (exploitation, sexual violence, cultural theft) with supernatural terror.
• Applauds the ambiguity and the “clear but not heavy-handed metaphor,” suggesting the story works on multiple interpretive levels.

---

Essential Timestamps

| Segment | Time | Notes | |-------------------------------------|----------|----------------------------------------------------| | Margaret’s introduction | 02:10 | Book club set-up, content warning | | Story begins: Setting and folklore | 03:20 | Family dynamics, intro to Kushtaka mythology | | Mining accident & Sedna warnings | 07:00 | Elders warn about supernatural consequences | | Hank drives protagonist to lodge | 17:48 | Outsider violence, Kushtaka emerges | | Kushtaka attacks & carnage | 31:46 | Gruesome climax, protagonist escapes | | Confrontation with Buck & aftermath | 41:00 | Themes of identity, justice, and reclamation | | Margaret’s critical reflection | 45:20 | Analysis of metaphor, story craft, horror | | Closing notes and author plug | 47:10 | Where to find Mathilda Zeller |

---

Tone and Language

Margaret maintains a self-aware, conversational, slightly irreverent tone throughout—embracing the macabre, poking fun at book club conventions, but offering earnest engagement with Indigenous storytelling and horror.

---

Concluding Thoughts

Margaret closes by urging listeners to explore more of Mathilda Zeller’s work, supporting Indigenous writers, and engaging critically with how horror explores systemic violence and trauma. She notes the underlying message that the real horrors are often institutional—“where the real monster was colonialism all along” (45:05).

---

Recommended next steps:

• For more about Mathilda Zeller, visit matildazeller.wordpress.com
• Stay tuned for next week’s Spooky Month Book Club episode.

---

Transcript

[Margaret Killjoy]

This is an I Heart Podcast.

[Dr. Leslie]

A life that's carefree needs hair that's worry free. Have both with MORI reduce shedding and thinning in as little as 12 weeks with clinically proven all natural MORI nourishing hair care products. Others containing sulfates, parabens and GMOs can actually weaken your hair over time. You can look great for holiday photos. Still not sure we get it. So right now purchase Mori at 50% off while it lasts and take a quiz for a custom hair care [e-mail] results can var Maury is not a substitute for medical advice. See website for more. This is the story of the One As a custodial supervisor at a high school, he knows that during cold and flu season, germs spread fast. It's why he partners with Grainger to stay fully stocked on the products and supplies he needs, from tissues to disinfectants to floor scrubbers, all so that he can help students, staff and teachers stay healthy and focused. Call 1-800-GRAINGER, click grainger.com or just stop by Granger for the ones who get it done.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

There's a vile sickness in Amber's Town. You must excise it, dig into the deep earth and cut it out.

[Aaron Manke]

From iheart Podcasts and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manke. This is Havoc Town, a new fiction podcast set in the Bridgewater Audio universe, starring Jewel State and Ray Wise. Listen to Havoc town on the iHeartRadio app app Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Dr. J]

I love that you created this system that revolves around you, creating pockets of peace. World Mental Health Day is around the corner, and on my podcast, just heal with Dr. J, I dive into what it really means to care for your mind, body and spirit. From breaking generational patterns to building emotional.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Capacity, I'm going to walk away feeling like, yes, I'm going to continue my healing journey.

[Dr. J]

Listen to just heal with Dr. J from the Black Effect Podcast Network on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Cool Zone Media Book Club Book Club Book Club Book Club. I've never gotten to do this booky thing before. That's not true. I've probably done it every October, but I don't remember it because why would I remember doing something cringey? Although, as they say, only the cringe are free. That shouldn't be our tagline here at Cool Zone Media Book Club, but it kind of could be. Except actually, I would say that this week's story isn't cringey at all. It's just good. I'm the one who's cringy. I'm your host, Margaret Killjoy. This is the only book club where you don't have to do the reading because I do it for you. There might be other book clubs where you don't have to do the reading because someone else does it for you, but it's not this one. Also, sometimes I resent my own choice in using that tagline because while having a story read to you is different than reading, it's like not so fundamentally different than reading. I listen to a lot of audiobooks and I tell people I read those books because you know what? Every single word of them went into my brain. And what is reading besides having words go into your brain? Anyway, we're gonna do some horror stories this month and this is one of them. Okay, one more time. That's how you're supposed to do Spooky. Okay, first up this week we have a story called Kushtuka and it's by Matilda Zeller and it first appeared in the 2023 collection never whistle at an Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology. It is a creature feature and a slasher centering around a figure, the Kushtuka, which is common in the folklore of people native to so called Alaska. And as for what the creature is, I will let Matilda explain that to you in a second in the story. And it is a spooky story and heads up that not everyone's going to make it out. You could probably guess that there's a little bit of gore, mostly off camera. I'll probably be doing more content warnings than usual for Spooky Month because I don't know, whatever. People of different ages and different desires of listening to things listen to things. I'm squeamish and this one was alright for me. As you listen, you should keep an ear out for what Mathilda is doing with perspective. And now Kushtuka by Matilda Zeller. You don't have to love him, just make his baby, mama said, hanging the fleshy swath of salmon to dry. It might have colored eyes, you know, maybe blue eyes. He'll pay you to keep quiet about it. Mama had always been Machiavellian, but this was next level. Not even the old ladies who gossiped about her would have guessed she'd try to pull something like this. I shuddered and slid my knife up the side of another salmon, severing a long fillet of red flesh and silver scales. The cold wet flesh reminded me of Hank Ferriman's lips, which he constantly licked while talking to us village girls. His hands were wide and still stubby, his cheeks were pocked and ruddy, and his breath smelled like a caribou carcass that had been left out in the sun for a week. He's rich, Mama reminded me unnecessarily. And I'm sure he wouldn't be wanting his wife back in Kansas, knowing he's got a kid up here. The money could really help, you know. He's probably got kids all over the Kobuk Valley, I muttered. And I don't want to make anyone's baby. Except maybe Panas. But even then that's not happening until after I finish college, which costs money that we don't have, which is why this conversation is happening in the first place. I brought down my knife too quickly through the fillet and caught the side of my thumb. Blood blossomed along the cut and I brought it reflexively to my mouth, the taste of my blood mingling with the fishes. Mama sucked her teeth. Stupid girl. Go inside and clean that up. You're getting blood everywhere. The cut stung, but it was a way out of this conversation and away from Mama. I jogged back to the house, pressing my jacket sleeve around the cut, which extended from the tip of my thumb down the side of my palm. Not wanting to take the pressure off it, I kicked the door with my toe. It was Panna, not my Anna, who opened it. My heart fluttered a little despite having known him my whole life. What are you doing here? He grinned that perfect grin, complete with deep set dimples and one eye tooth missing. Having tea with your Ana? Why? Not that I minded, but he was supposed to be on shift in the mines. There was an accident down at the mines. Frankie and Aklock and a couple of the white guys, too. You know, the ones visiting from Kansas. Which white guys? Maybe one was Hank Ferriman. Maybe Mama would leave me alone. Then Jim and Bob. They all survived, but they're in really rough shape. Had to be flown to Fairbanks. Oh, my heart sank a little. How did they get hurt? Panna's face darkened. Maybe you should come inside. Anna waited on the overstuffed chintz sofa, her dark eyes smiling at me from their nests of deep wrinkles. She was aged but ageless. I swear she hasn't changed since I was four years old. It was Sedna, anna said by way of greeting. She's the mistress of the underworld. And they're mining into her domain. Hana shook his head. The foreman said it was a bear or Maybe some wolves. A bear and maybe some wolves, anna repeated, cackling. He didn't even see what happened. He is throwing guesses into the dark. I sat down next to Panna. Sedna is mythology, Anna. Sedna is angry, anna interrupted. They're coming uninvited and taking what's ours. They don't belong here in our land, in our beds. She clutched her jaw tight, swallowing hard. But Sedna is gracious enough to give warning. She only tore their guts out. A wolf or bear would have stayed to eat the guts. They wouldn't be alive in the hospital right now if it weren't for her grace. I turned to Pana, my own innards tightening. Their guts were torn out. Pana nodded. Torn up across the abdomen. Torn up everywhere, in fact. I raised a skeptical eyebrow. And they're saying it was wolves. Panna shifted defensively. If they weren't saying it was wolves, you know who they'd be accusing? Us. All of us. I nodded my head. What did you do to your hand? Anna said, reaching for me with one hand and smacking Panna's knee with the other. Panna, why didn't you see? She's hurt. Go get the bandages. Panna jumped up to get them. He didn't need to ask where. He knew my house as well as I did. As soon as he was out of the room, Anna leaned towards me. He wants to marry you, you know. I sighed. I know. Panna had been saved last year by a visiting preacher and was now determined to marry me before I moved in. Common law marriage was what basically everyone else did. But not Panna. No. He wanted to go to a little white chapel and promise God he'd love me first. Your grandfather married me first, anna reminded me, smiling. I know, I repeated. I'd heard the story a million times. How he'd waited and saved until he could take Grandma and Eddie, her baby from a visiting schoolteacher, all the way out to Fairbanks for a marriage and adoption. He'd wanted to do it properly, he said. She thought it was stupid at the time, but it had grown to be a major point of pride with her. I wasn't sure I saw the point. It was a lot of money, but Panna cared about doing it that way. And I cared about him. Panna returned with the first aid kits and pulled my hand into his lap, gingerly unwrapping it from a jacket sleeve. I'm taking Hank Ferriman's boy hunting this weekend, he said, pouring some iodine onto a bit of gauze. Hank says he wants him toughened up out there on the tundra. I rolled my eyes. Panna and his crew would do no such thing. Not if they wanted repeat business. They would take the kid out there, make him feel like a big tough hunter while doing all the actual work of packing things, unpacking things, and hauling things. And he would have stories to take back to his buddies in Kansas. It was about the kid's ego, and the dad's, too. I'm sure he'll shoot the biggest caribou known to man, I said. With razor sharp teeth. Panna grinned. By the time he gets back to Kansas, he'll have turned into a polar bear that he killed with his own bare hands, added Anna, her face splitting into a wide grin, revealing teeth worn down by years of leatherworking like this. Her hands made violent strangling motions. Panna and I melted into a fit of giggles, as if we were both 10 instead of nearly 20. Pana finished my hand and I stood reluctantly here with him, with my Ana. This was my heart's home. Outside that door lay wolves and bears and Hank Ferriman and Mama. When I returned to Mama, she was smiling. You have a job this weekend? A job with Hank Ferriman. He's having a party at his lodge. He needs hired help. You know, cooking, cleaning. A curdling feeling gathered around my ears. Why don't you go work for him? It was a stupid question that we both knew the answer to. Mama rolled her eyes. I already told him you'd go. You're going. No. No. Mama's hand tightened on the knife she was holding. I did my best not to look down at it. My heart trilled like it was trying to beat for three people. I don't want to. To my surprise, Mama's grip loosened on the knife and she shrugged. Maybe I'll send Esther then. My mouth went dry. Esther was my 15 year old sister. My sweet, compliant sister. Mama wouldn't. She couldn't. As I stared at her, though, I knew she would. I'll go. I picked up my ULU and rocked it across the salmon, chopping its head. That's what I thought, mama replied. Some days I hate her. But do you know what we don't hate? You're a Cool Zone Media Book Club. We don't hate all of our advertisers. That's right. Not all of them. In fact, you can play a game called Listen to these ads and decide which ones you hate. Or you could skip them. I don't actually care.

[Dr. Leslie]

Life's messy. We're talking spills, stains, pets and kids. But with Annabe, you never have to stress about messes again. @washablesofas.com Discover Annabe sofas the only fully machine washable sofas inside and out starting at just $699. Made with liquid and stain resistant fabrics, that means fewer stains and more peace of mind. Designed for real life, our sofas feature changeable fabric covers allowing you to refresh your style anytime. Need flexibility? Our modular design lets you rearrange your sofa effortlessly. Perfect for cozy apartments or spacious homes. Plus, they're earth friendly and built to last. That's why over 200,000 happy customers have made the switch. Upgrade your space today. Visit washablesofas.com now and bring home a sofa made for life. That's washablesofas.com offers are subject to change and certain restrictions may apply.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

There's a vile sickness in Ambas Town. You must excise it. Dig into the deep earth and cut it out.

[Margaret Killjoy]

The village is ravaged.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

Entire families have been consumed.

[Margaret Killjoy]

You know how waking up from a dream a familiar place can look completely alien. Get back everyone.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

And if you see the devil walking around inside of another man, you must cut out the very heart of him, burn his body and scatter the ashes in the furthest corner of this town.

[Aaron Manke]

As a warning from iHeart podcasts and grim and mild from Aaron Manke, this is Havoc Town, a new fiction podcast set in the Bridgewater Audio universe starring Jewel State and Ray Wise. Listen to Havoc town on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Snax]

The Devil Walks in Abbott's Town what's up everybody? This is Snax from the Trap Nerds Podcast and we're bringing you the horror every week all October long.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Kicking off this month I'll be bringing you all my greatest fear inducing horror games from Resident Evil to Solid Hill.

[Snax]

Me and Tony bringing back Fireteam on.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Left 4 Dead 2 and we just gonna be going over some of the greats.

[Snax]

Also in October we'll be talking about our favorite horror and Halloween movies and figure out why black people always gotta die first.

[Margaret Killjoy]

The Umbral Reliquary invites any and all fool brave enough to peruse its many curiosities. But take ease. All sales are final. Weekly horror side quests written and narrated by yours truly with a full episode read and a commentary special.

[Snax]

And we will cap it off with Horror Movie Battle Royale Jason vs. Freddy Michael Myers vs. The Alien Thing with the Little Tongue Monster. October we're doing it Halloween style. Listen to the Traverse Podcast from the Black Effect Podcast Network on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcast.

[Danielle Robaix]

In early 1988, federal agents raced to track down the gang they suspect of importing millions of dollars worth of heroin into New York from Asia.

[Margaret Killjoy]

We had 30 agents ready to go with shotguns and rifles and you name it.

[Danielle Robaix]

But what they find is not what they expected.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Basically, your stay at home moms were picking up these large amounts of heroin. They go, is this your daughter? I said, yes. They go, oh, you may not see her for like 25 years.

[Danielle Robaix]

Caught between a federal investigation and the violent gang who recruited them, the women must decide who they're willing to protect and who they dare to betray.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Once I saw the gun, I tried to take his hand and I saw the flash of light.

[Danielle Robaix]

Listen to the Chinatown sting on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or anywhere you get your podcasts.

[Margaret Killjoy]

And we're back. The Land of the Midnight sun. Bellowed Hank Ferriman, punching my shoulder playfully. More like the land of 6pm bedtime. Was he always this loud, or was the closeness of the truck amplifying his voice? He chortled at his own joke. Tapisa. Hey, Tappy. I cringed at the improvised nickname. Tell me a native story. I shook my head. That's a bad idea. The sun had set an hour ago and we were bumping over the half frozen ground in the dark, with nothing but the truck's headlights standing between us and the the darkness. Snow had begun to fall thick and fast. Alone with someone like him in the darkness like this seemed the worst possible place to bring up the stories that could catch the attention of a spirit. It's a swell idea. Hank Ferryman doesn't make bad ideas. Don't forget I hired you for the evening. The last sentence felt like lead between us. He had hired me to cook and clean for his party, not tell him stories. I wasn't hired to do whatever he felt like doing. My hands curled into fists. Still, maybe it would shut him up. Fine, fine. I racked my brain, but in the darkness I could think of nothing bright and benign. There once was a girl named Sedna. Her father threw her over the edge of his fishing boat. She tried to save herself by catching onto the ledge of the boat, but he brought a knife down onto her fingers and cut them all off. They became the first seals, walruses, whales. She became the goddess of the underworld. Hank waved his hand impatiently. I already know about Sedna. I got your buddy Panna to tell me about her. Tell me something new. I pulled my coat tighter around me. There are kushtuka. They appear to us, taking on the appearances of those we love. They try to get us to go with them. To go with them where? I pulled my coat even tighter, suddenly feeling cold. I don't know. Hank was quiet for a blessed minute. Then he let out a guttural snort that blossomed into full blown laughter. Oh, you call that a ghost story, missy? Your ghost stories are as bad as your watermelons up here. We don't have watermelons up here. Damn straight you don't. I can tell you some ghost stories from Kansas that put hair on your chest. In fact, my head slammed into the dashboard as Hank floored the break, sending us into a fishtail. When the car finally stopped, he sat, his chest heaving as he stared out at the road ahead of us. A figure stood before us in the headlights, cloaked in heavy furs. Black hair tumbled down in wild rivulets to her elbows. She pushed back the ruff of her parka. She was me, or would have been were it not for the pupils that covered the whole of her eyes and the hideous, obscenely wide grin that distorted the lower half of her face. Hank let out a small scream as he floored the gas, ramming straight into her. A thunder roar of sickening thuds juttered through me as she tumbled up and over the hood of the truck. I looked behind us but saw nothing in the taillights. As Hank continued to pick up speed, his breathing ragged and shallow, he muttered to himself thickly for a moment before looking over at me with a little nervous laugh. Some deer you got out here, huh? I stared. That wasn't a deer. Don't be stupid. Hank coughed. I saw it with my own two eyes. You saw it with yours. It was a deer, plain as the nose on your face. A gentle tapping noise sounded on the glass behind me. I shuddered, unable to turn around. I think there's something in the bed of the truck. Hank's hands tightened on the steering wheel. No, there isn't. Do you hear that? I felt those eyes on the back of my head. Those eyes all sea black, pupil wide and hungry. All I hear is you trying to amp me up. Wasn't enough to tell me your ghost stories. You want to spook me now? His body stiffened at the noise. Stop it, Topeesa. It's not funny at all. It's not me. Surely he could see both my hands silent in my lap. He huffed impatiently but didn't say Anything else? The tapping stopped. He relaxed, laughed a little. You really had me going for a minute there. I didn't reply. There was no point. By the time we reached his lodge, an oversized monstrosity on the edge of the lake, he was back to cracking bad jokes and resting his hand on my knee, removing it when I batted him off, only to drop it there again a second later. You'll love this place. I can't believe I even taken you out here yet. I had everything flown in from Anchorage. It's all custom. Top of the line. He was grinning like a kid. I hated his familiarity, as if I were a friend who hadn't gotten around to visiting instead of a village girl whose mother he'd leveraged to drag me out here. He slipped out his side of the truck, swinging back his keys and whistling. I sat on the passenger side, my dread growing in the stillness. I turned this time and saw her. She was me, this kushtuka with inky black eyes and black hair billowing and wild. When her eyes met, her face split again into that freakishly wide grin that nearly reached her ears and revealed pointed molars. Meat eating molars. Flesh ripping molars. Hank's voice registered from somewhere in front of the truck. Aren't you coming to Pisa? I opened my mouth and closed it again, unable to bring myself to make a sound. The kushtuka tapped the back window of the truck once more with a long black fingernail and disappeared. I tore my eyes from the back window to see him trundling over the door. You're one of those fussy old fashioned girls, aren't you? You want a big strong man to open the door for you, is that it? He chuckled to himself and opened my door. I climbed out, scared to take my eyes off the truck bed, as if doing so would make the kushtuka materialize again and leap on us, ripping at us with his poor pointed teeth. The lodge was massive, with vaulted ceilings and mounted animal heads everywhere. Above the fireplace hung two spears crossed over each other like they were European swords or something. But they weren't European. They were Inuit. I recognized the carvings on them, the worn leather bindings that secured the pointed stone ends. Those spears. Artifacts. They're incredible, aren't they? Genuine ancient artifacts, you know. They're my grandfather's. Hank Ferriman's smile stayed frozen on his face. After a pregnant pause, he laughed. You're mistaken. There are so many spears out there like these. I recognize the carving. They're nothing. Indigenous motifs that have been carved a thousand times over. The back of my neck felt tight beyond cringing. If they're not his, where did you get them? Hank shrugged as if I'd asked a stupid question. My secretary found them for me. Found them? Stole them, more likely from my widowed Anna. Found them. Bought them. It doesn't matter. You're here to work. There's the kitchen. He pointed to a corner of the lodge sectioned off by granite countertops. My secretary was here earlier. They've dropped off recipes and groceries for tonight's dinner. I stalked over to the kitchen and grabbed the ulu that was sitting on the wood holder on the counter. Hank bounded over and snatched it from my hands. That's an artifact. It's for decoration. I looked down at the ulu in his hands. It was newly sharpened. The baleen handle was worn, polished to a bright shine from all the times it had been gripped. I wonder whose Anna he stole this from. It's a tool for cutting. Hank rolled his eyes. You are basically white. Your dad's dad was white. Your mother is white. You should be able to understand that modern knives are better. He pointed to the block of knives on the counter. Carbon steel, flown in from Japan. Top of the line. Try them, honey. I promise you'll never go back to an ulu. If he saw I was shaking with rage, he didn't show it. I strode to the knife block and drew out the largest one, grabbing a cutting board and a bag of potatoes before I could give in to my urge to run him through with it. See now isn't that fabulous? Hank Ferriman pumped a fist as if he had just taught me to fish and I'd caught one. He didn't wait for a reply before continuing. I gotta take a piss. Make sure the champagne is in the fridge, will you? No one likes it warm. And you know, here at Coolzone Media we serve all of our products and services freshly chilled. Just how everyone likes them.

[Dr. Leslie]

Tired of spills and stains on your sofa? WashablesOfAs.com has your back. Featuring the Annabe Collection the only designer sofa that's machine washable inside and out. Where designer quality meets budget friendly prices. That's right. Sofas start at just $699. Enjoy a no risk experience with pet friendly stain resistant and changeable slipcovers made with performance fabrics. Experience cloud like comfort with high resilience foam that's hypoallergenic and never needs fluffing. The sturdy steel frame ensures the longevity and the modular pieces can be rearranged anytime. Check out washablesofas.com and get up to 60% off your annabe sofa backed by a 30 day satisfaction guarantee. If you're not absolutely in love, send it back for a full refund. No return, shipping or restocking fees. Every penny back. Upgrade [e-mail] Offers are subject to change and certain restrictions may apply.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

There's a vile sickness in Abbas Town. You must excise it, dig into the deep earth and cut it out. The village is ravaged. Entire families have been consumed.

[Margaret Killjoy]

You know how waking up from a dream, a familiar place can look completely alien? Get back everyone.

[Snax]

He's got ns.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

And if you see the devil walking around inside of another man, you must cut out the very heart of him, burn his body and scatter the ashes in the furthest corner of this town.

[Aaron Manke]

As a warning from iHeart podcasts and grim and mild from Aaron Manke, this is Havoc Town, a new fiction podcast set in the Bridgewater audio universe, starring Jewel State and Ray Wise. Listen to Havoc town on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

The Devil Walks in abbostown.

[Danielle Robaix]

In early 1988, federal agents raced to track down the gang they suspect of importing millions of dollars worth of heroin into New York from Asia.

[Margaret Killjoy]

We had 30 agents ready to go with shotguns and rifles and you name it.

[Danielle Robaix]

But what they find is not what they expected.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Basically your stay at home moms were picking up these large amounts of heroin. They go, is this your daughter? I said yes. They go, oh, you may not see her for like 25 years.

[Danielle Robaix]

Caught between a federal investigation and the violent gang who recruited them, the women must decide who who they're willing to protect and who they dare to betray.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Once I saw the gun, I tried to take his hand and I saw the flash of light.

[Danielle Robaix]

Listen to the Chinatown sting on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or anywhere you get your podcasts.

[Snax]

What's up everybody? This is Snax from the Trap Nerds podcast and we're bringing you the horror every week all October long.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Kicking off this month, I'll be bringing you all my greatest fear inducing horror games. From Resident Evil to Solid Hill.

[Snax]

Me and Tony bringing back Fireteam on.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Left 4 Dead 2 and we just gonna be going over some of the greats.

[Snax]

Also in October we'll be talking about our favorite horror and Halloween movies and figuring out why black people always gotta die first.

[Margaret Killjoy]

The umbral reliquary invites any and all fool brave enough to peruse its many curiosities. But take kid. All sales are final. Weekly Horror side quests written and narrated by yours truly with a full episode read and a commentary special and we.

[Snax]

Will cap it off with Horror Movie Battle Royale Jason versus Freddy, Michael Myers versus the Alien Thing with the Little Tongue Monster October. We're doing it Halloween style. Listen to the Trap Nurse Podcast from the Black Effect Podcast Network on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcast.

[Margaret Killjoy]

And we're back. I made dinner. Other men showed up and ate, made passes at me, laughed, and talked to Hank. I passed the hours in a deep fuzzy rage, forcing myself through the motions of arranging canopies on a plate, pulling a roast from the oven, slicing it up on a serving tray. I couldn't bring myself to fake smile at them. There was something outside the house that was clearly murderous and looked just like me. There was something inside of me that was clearly murderous and felt nothing like me. Someone popped the cork off the champagne bottle and I jumped, letting out a small scream. The room exploded with laughter and Hank grinned at me, pushing a champagne glass over the counter towards me. You clearly need to loosen up. I pushed it back towards him and left for the bathroom. I needed to be somewhere, anywhere, away from these people. I locked the bathroom door and pulled myself onto the counter, leaning my head back against the mirror. It was colder here, a welcome relief from the heat in the main area. I breathed deep, sizing up my options, wondering if I could get the police to look into how Hank got my grandfather's spears. If they would actually care at all. Probably not. A heavy dragging sound slid across the hall outside the bathroom. I looked down, watching a shadow pass along the crack under the door. The air filled with the thick smell of old fish. The shadow paused. I pressed my lips together, hardly daring to breathe. After an eternity, the shadow continued on past the bathroom door and down the hall. I slipped off the counter and stood in front of the door. The murmur of laughter and conversation went silent. Hank Ferriman's voice broke the silence. Tipisa, I told you to leave the artifacts alone. His voice should have sounded plaintive, but it didn't. It trembled. A scream tore through the air, followed by a trampling of feet, breaking of glasses. More screams. I sat on the counter, my mouth growing dry. Someone was running up the hall towards me. The handle to the bathroom door rattled, followed by pounding that made the whole door vibrate. Let me in. The heavy crack of a skull on the floor preceded a wet tearing sound. Something dark seeped under the bathroom door, and it wasn't until the smell hit me that I fully registered what it was. Blood. Primal growls turned into satisfied chewing and smacking noises. I pressed my back against the bathroom mirror, drawing my knees to my chest. My heart thudded in my ears and my breathing sounded too loud. It that kushtuka would hear me. It that creature would find me. My blood would join with the blood on the floor. After what felt like an eternity, a rustling of furs and padding of feet told me it was leaving. I heard the front door banging open. The sound of feet on gravel walking away. I couldn't stay here. It could come back. It would come back. I needed to get home to my ana and her shotgun. Would a shotgun work against a kushtuka? Surely it would. If it weren't flesh and blood itself, it wouldn't be able to do whatever it just did. I dropped to the floor as silently as I could, holding my breath while I turned the doorknob. I had seen a lot of blood in my life. I had gutted fish and caribou, slaughtered ducks and sliced up eels. But that was orderly, deliberate, purposeful. This. This was not that. Bloody footprints covered the floor. Blood spatters and smears graced the walls. There weren't men here. There were pieces of men, entrails of men. I took a step forward and my foot grazed something wet. I looked down. It was an eye, bloodshot across the celera. It rolled, revealing a blue iris as blue as Hanks. I fell into a squat, hugging my knees, pressing my toes down to stop myself from falling into the mess. I didn't want to touch the ground. I didn't want to touch anything. I pressed my shoulders between my knees and vomited. Outside, Hank's sled dog started barking. Working up into a panic, I looked around. I had to get out of here. Hank's keys had been in his pocket, but now I could barely bring myself to cast my eyes around the room again. This was a search I couldn't undertake. The dogs. The dogs would take me home and away from that thing, whatever that thing was. I grabbed my grandfather's spear off the wall, the ulu off the counter, and stepped lightly out onto the gravel. New snow was starting to fall, dusting the gravel and recoating the already fallen snow in the yard. I pressed my back into the log exterior and sidestepped towards the barn where the huskies were. Their barking had died down and now they were all panting and whimpering anxiously. I stepped into the shadowy barn, straining my eyes against the Darkness. If she was in here, they'd know, wouldn't they? If she was still there, they'd still be barking. But they weren't. They were just whimpering and staring at me. Still. My scalp prickled. She'd be coming back. Something deep inside me knew it. I grabbed their harness and began hooking them up as quickly as I could, praying that the snow was deep enough, that the dogs would know where to go, that I wouldn't fall off. I'd driven a sled a few times before, but I wasn't good at it, not by a long shot. Something shuffled in the dark. The dogs whining intensified. My hand shook as they buckled the last clasp and I jumped onto the runners. Something shuffled again and the rancid fish smell filled the air. She was here. Go. I hissed to the dogs. Mush. The dogs whimpered, looking around anxiously. I tried to whistle at them, but my mouth was too dry. Something bit into my arm, sharp and cold. I screamed and the dogs took off like a shot. I snatched the handle with one hand and slapped the kushtuka with the other. Her nails dug into my flesh and searing cold shot through me. I raised the arm she was gripping and bit down hard on her hand. A scream echoed across the tundra as she fell back and we gained speed. I looked over my shoulder and saw her in the moonlight, a dark, spidery figure loping towards us across the white snow. I shook the reins, urging the dogs to go faster. The sound of her awkward lope and heavy breathing grew louder. We swerved through scrub brush. She bounded over it. She was gaining on us. Blam. A shot rang out across the hills. Blam. It was a shotgun. Who on earth was shooting their gun at this time of night? Blam. I prayed the bullet would miss us, that it would find my kushtuka. We had come into the river and the dog swerved to run parallel to it. The kushtuka cut the corner, closing the distance between us. I could feel her breath on the back of my hand, smell the blood and fetid flesh. Blaming the smell subsided. I looked back behind me and she was on the ground, inert. The dog slowed to a walk and my knees buckled with relief. Blam. Why were they still shooting? The kushtuko was dead. Someone grabbed me, throwing a hand over my mouth and another around my waist, tackling me to the ground. Don't say a word. It was Panna Buck. Hank's boy has absolutely lost his mind. I nodded. We crawled behind a rock and sat stock still. Muffling. Our breathing with our coat sleeves. Footsteps grated across the stones on the riverbank. I got 1, 2, 3 little Indians all for me, Buck sang. I ignored Panna's whispered protests and peeked around the boulder to see Hank Ferriman's son nudge the inert Kushtuka with the barrel of his rifle. You're an ugly one, aren't you? He muttered. The kushtuka shifted. Buck nudged the kishtuka with the butt of his rifle. Are you dead or do I need to blast you again? He spoke as if he were offering a complimentary turn down service at a fancy hotel rather than threatening mortal violence. The kushtuka made a quiet whimpering sound. Or better yet, perhaps with my own hands. He dropped to his knees and put his hands around the kushtuka's throat. It made a strangled sound, writhing against his tightening grip. A knot twisted in my stomach. I should have been relieved to see the kushtuka go, but in that moment she looked at me. She looked like me. Somehow she was me. Buck squeezed harder and she kicked and flailed, her foot connecting with the butt of the gun, sending it skittering towards me across the snow. Ignoring Panna's protests, I lunged forward, grabbing it and bringing it level, jamming the butt into my shoulder. Stop. My voice didn't sound like mine. It sounded desperate, primeval. Superhuman. My finger went to the trigger. My voice trembled when I spoke. You're killing her. Stop. I fired a warning shot above his head and he froze, then slowly stood, hands above his head, turning to fix me with a grin as ugly and unsettling as the Kushtukas. Those devil natives thought they could abandon me, he said through his manic grin. They were wrong. They were all wrong. I showed them. Panna stood up now, turning a flashlight on Buck. His blond hair and pale face, his expensive thermal coat and snow pants, they were all spattered in blood. My finger went back to the trigger. He wouldn't be missed. His father was already dead. If he lived, he'd kill and kill again. He'd kill my people. He'd kill Pana. I leveled the gun at him and took aim. Warm, gentle hands covered my hands and I heard Panna's voice in my ear. Please don't. He isn't worth what. We'll pay for this. The tightness welling up in my chest broke into a sob. I lowered the gun. This was it, how we all ended, defeated by their brutality in a world that would choose them and forget about us. Buck screamed There was a spear in him. The kushtuka on the ground held the spear, grinning widely. I was on the ground holding the spear. I was holding it with my own hands as Buck's blood trickled down and warmed them. I let it go, scrambling to my feet as he fell. There were bruises around my neck. My throat hurt when I breathed. Where was the kushtuka? Where was Pana? Buck fell onto his back, the spear sticking straight up out of him. Panna lowered the rifle, tears streaming down his face. I thought he was going to kill you. The Kushtuka. Buck went on a Ra rampage. Both elders who came with us hunting are dead. There was a kushtuka. The kushtuka killed him. She was right here. She looked just like me. Panna opened his mouth to protest that looked down at Buck. He took a deep breath. You know what, Tipisa? I think you were right. I think there was a kushtuka. I pulled my hands into the thick furs I was wearing. They were beautifully made. The trim was black, with little red flowers and green leaves trailing along the edge. They were handmade artifacts. Even I thought I saw that hanging in Hank Ferriman's lodge. Pana said, it looks like the one my Ana made once. I walked to the sled, my legs shaking. Let's take it back to her, then, okay? Panna nodded, tossing one last glance over his shoulder at Buck. His freshly dead body smelled good. So good I was sure the wolves would find him soon. I swallowed the saliva gathering in my mouth. Come on, Panna. I think I have your Anna's ulu on that dog sled. She'll be wanting it back. Panna paused, then nodded, taking my arm. Thanks, Tipisa. I smiled. You, my dear, are most certainly welcome. The End I like that story a lot. I. I don't know. I don't have a ton to say about it. I like when stories have kind of like clear metaphors, but not quite like beating you over the head metaphors and how you can interpret this like a little bit more or less literally, depending on how you want to, and either way feels false. Like sometimes when things are sort of uncertain, you're like. It feels lazy. This happens, actually, especially in movies for me. But I don't feel that way at all about this one. I just like this idea that inside of us is this certain capacity, and that capacity can kind of be understood as something external to us as well. That goes along well with my sort of metaphysical views of the world or whatever. Anyway, Hazel, who helps me pick out the stories. Really loves how Matilda the author builds tension so seamlessly in this story weaving routine. Horrors like extractive energy and racialized sexual violence in with the supernatural stuff. It sort of unnormalizes that stuff and brings the horror that underpins much of our current systems into focus. It's one of the things that makes horror so fun, using fear, disgust and intensity to investigate underlying truth. So yeah, it's Spooky Month, where the real monster was colonialism all along. You all probably could have seen that coming because it's Cool Zone Media Book Club and we all know that colonialism was the real monster all along. We'll be back next week with another horror treat for your ears. In the meantime, you can keep up with Matilda zeller online at matildazeller.WordPress.com how do you spell Matilda Zeller, you might ask. Well, I'm going to tell you. You spell Matilda M A T H I, L, D A and you spell Zeller Z, E, L, L, E, R. So that's Matilda Zeller and I'm Margaret Killjoy and you can follow me wherever you want. I don't know. Okay, well, whatever. It's Spooky Month. My last book is spooky. It's called the Immortal Choir Holds Every Voice and it's three stories set in the Danielle Caine universe. It's the third book of the Daniel Caine series which you can listen to the first two on this very podcast. And you can go and listen to the third one without having. Well, yeah, read the third one that I haven't done with the audiobook yet because I would record the audiobook but for some reason I'm recording this every week. Whatever. I like my job. It's called the Immortal Choir Holds Every Voice and you can read it. It's out from Strangers in the Tangled Wilderness, which is a anarchist collective and support worker owned businesses and take care of each Other and decolonize Turtle island and Stop the Genocide and take care of each other and be good to each other because we're all we've got. Oh no. I went earnest. Spooky. It Could Happen here as a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, Visit our website coolzone media.com or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen here updated monthly atcoolzone on media.com sources. Thanks for listening.

[Narrator (Havoc Town teaser)]

There's a vile sickness in Abba's town. You must excise it dig into the deep earth and cut it out from.

[Aaron Manke]

Iheart podcasts and grim and Mild from Aaron Manke. This is Havoc Town, a new fiction podcast sets in the Bridgewater on Audio Universe starring Jewel State and Ray Wise. Listen to Havoc town on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Dr. J]

I love that you created this system that revolves around you, creating pockets of peace. World Mental Health Day is around the corner and on my podcast just heal with Dr. J, I dive into what it really means to care for your mind, body and spirit. From breaking generational patterns to building emotional.

[Margaret Killjoy]

Capacity, I'm going to walk away feeling like, yes, I'm going to continue my healing journey.

[Dr. J]

Listen to just heal with Dr. J from the Black Effect Podcast Network on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Dr. Leslie]

Do you want to hear the secrets of psychopaths, murderers, sex offenders? In this episode, I offer tips from them. I'm Dr. Leslie, forensic psychologist. This is a podcast where I come through the noise with real talk.

[Margaret Killjoy]

When you were described to me as a forensic psychologist, I was like, snooze. We ended up talking for hours and I was like, this girl is my best friend.

[Dr. Leslie]

Let's talk about safety and strategies to protect yourself and your loved ones. Listen to Intentionally disturbing on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Danielle Robaix]

Just like great shoes, great books take you places through unforgettable love stories and into conversations with characters you'll never forget.

[Margaret Killjoy]

I think any good romance, it gives me this feeling of like butterflies.

[Danielle Robaix]

I'm Danielle Robaix and this is bookmarked by Reese's Book Club, the new podcast from hello Sunshine and iHeart podcasts where we dive into the stories that shape us on the page and off. Each week I'm joined by authors, celebs, book talk stars and more for conversations that will make you laugh, cry and add way too many books to your TBR pile. Listen to Bookmarked by Reese's Book Club on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts. Apple Books is the official audiobook and ebook home for Reese's Book Club. Visit Apple Co ReeseAppleBooks to find out more.

[Margaret Killjoy]

This is an iHeart podcast.