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Thank you. From the blackest corners of your mind, they call, pulling you deep into shadow, twisting your senses, keeping you from sleep.

It's time to face your darkest fears.

This is Tales to Terrify. Good evening, children of the night, and welcome.

As I shared last week, by the time you hear this, I'll be out scrambling through the rugged wilderness of Iceland in search of beautiful views and whatever creepy mysteries hide behind their thin veil.

So tonight, we'll get right into our fiction.

We have one darkly delightful long tale for you this evening, which comes from Rich Larson.

Rich Larson was born in Galmy Niger, has lived in Spain and Czech Republic, and is currently based in Grand Prairie Canada.

His fiction has been translated into over a dozen languages, among them Polish, French, Romanian, and Japanese, and adapted into an Emmy-winning episode of Love, Death, and Robots.

Find free reads and support his work at patreon.com slash richlarsen.

Children of the Night, join me for Rich Larson's extraction request, first published in Clark's World in 2016. The

The When I finally shift the transport's still smoldering wing enough to drag Beasley out from where he was pinioned, for a moment all Elliot can do, all anyone can do, is stare.

Beasley's wiry arm with its bioluminescent tattoos is near sheared from its socket, and below his hips he's

nothing but pulped meat and splinters of bone. He's still alive, still mumbling, maybe about the

woman Elliot saw in a little hollow, with her arms thrown around his neck, back before Beasley's

dreadlocked mane was shaved off, and a conscript clamp was implanted at the top of his

spine.

His impact kit never triggered, someone says as if that's not fucking obvious, as if he could have

been ragdolled out of the transport otherwise.

...