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The Foxkey Chronicles: What Lurks Below, Teaser Trailer

The Foxkey Chronicles: What Lurks Below, is an audio drama mini-series taking place in the same universe as the Foxkey Chronicles: What Hides Beneath. It is a visceral mixture of supernatural and horror and takes place in the Old West. Come along on the journey to learn the origin of one heartless bastard by the name of Montgomery Bernard and his sister Enola.

You see kin, some evil is born. Other evil, is made. Montgomery Berhard didn’t start off evil, and his sister, Enola Bernhard, didn’t start off good. They were just children, siblings, born of the same blood and raised by the same father and mother. Then, one day, evil, true evil, came upon their village, forcing the siblings onto different paths and into a future rife with danger. 

That future brings us to a misfit trio intent on exploring the world unknown. Skip, Maggie and Joon find themselves in a world of trouble as an urban legend is brought to life. Will they escape the clutches of the fiendish Underground Joe? Or will they die by way of its boney jaws? 

To find out, join the clan and listen in! Head over to our website foxkeychronicles.com

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 The jaws of Underground Joe, in all their complex gorish glory, descended downward towards Skip. Incapsulating him in a cage of bony horror so fast that it was all Skip could do to scream and shrink in on himself, shutting his eyes tight in the hopes he might be transported to somewhere that was not there, in the depths of that cave.

   Pain. Screaming Pain. Shouting Pain. That's the sound Underground Joe made as its jaws enclosed upon Skip Palmer, only to crush into something unseen and entirely invisible. Bits of bone and rubbish shattered all around Skip, clattering to join their brethren in the depths of the spring. Breaking so loudly that, for a moment, the sound of it was enough to drown out even Skips' screams.

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   As if created from nothing at all, a well of water bubbled up from the rocky depths of the earth, forming into the jagged shape of a pool that, again, looked twice as deep as Skip was tall, if not deeper. Moss lined the craggy ridges and dips of its depths, blacker than his and Molly's dark skin. So black that it looked like it might be part of the shadows themselves if not for the way the moss swayed in a current of its own making. The water rippled and shone, reflecting the faint gleam of sunlight onto the walls in an ever-moving pattern, its depths hidden by the moss below.

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Sometimes, Kin, darkness has a way of creating itself. If it can find the means and seek out even the smallest of weaknesses, that wayward evil can blossom and grow like some wretched flower feeding upon a fertilizer of blood and death. But I imagine you know that already, don't you?

   I imagine if you have followed me this far, you know that all too well.

   Of course....they didn't.

   They never do.

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Inola stood in a river of red. Rich, unfamiliar red, mixing in with river clear, and turning into a milky, pink froth on the banks, as it burbled, and curdled, and sucked at the mud.

Inola stumbled backward, her eyes round, her heart racing.

The garment in her hand dripped with it. The length of her skirt was dyed red with it. And her wrists, oh her wrists, they were stained up to the elbow. Dripping pink ochre. Feeling sick to her stomach, Inola dropped the garment and turned, her feet slushing through the water, churning up rich mud that made the red less obvious but the terror in her heart no less turbulent.

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   Evil, Kin, Evil has a way of twisting a thing. Ain't no denying that we've seen it plenty until now. Sometimes, though, the most well-laid-out plans go awry. And sometimes, if we're lucky, evil can twist and twist and twist a thing right on back to good.

   Inola Bernard, at 13 years of age, was the middle child of the Bernard children. At least, she used to be, that is, until her eldest brother died of consumption. Now? She was the oldest. Her youngest brother was less of a brother and more of a tyrant. You know the sort, one of those brothers that knew just the right buttons to push. When it came to Inola, it seemed Montgomery Bernhard had been birthed just to make her life a living hell.

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

Jack Handler blinked awake as something wet and warm dripped onto his head. Opening his eyes, he looked upward and could see, by the faint light of the lamp, a stain growing on the ceiling of the floorboards above him.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Jack winced away from the wet splash of liquid as it struck him upon the forehead once more and reached up, touching a hand to his face. He lifted his hand towards the light and saw the dark fluid on his fingertips glisten red.

Blood.

Find us on patreon.com/foxkeychronicles, where you can join us kin for exclusive storylines.

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