It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club: "Luella Miller" by Mary Wilkins Freeman

Episode Date: October 13, 2024

Margaret reads you a spooky vampire story that's quite a bit different.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your true goals.

You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Welcome to Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get real and dive straight into todo lo actual y viral. We're talking música, los premios, el chisme, and all things trending in my cultura. I'm bringing you all the latest happening in our entertainment world and some fun and impactful interviews with your favorite Latin artists, comedians, actors, and influencers. Each week, we get deep and raw life stories, combos on the issues that matter to us, and

it's all packed with gems, fun, straight up comedia, and that's a song that only nuestra gente can sprinkle. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming. This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking. It's time to get rewarded for it.

Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast. And we're kicking off our second season digging into tech's elite and how they've turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech brought to you by an industry veteran with nothing to lose.

Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts from. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, five-year-old Cuban boy Elian Gonzalez was found off the coast of Florida. And the question was, should the boy go back to his father in Cuba? Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or stay with his relatives in Miami? Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

CoolZone Media It's the CoolZone Media Book Club. Spooky Month Edition. I don't know exactly when Spooky Month starts and ends, but I never know when Spooky Month starts and ends. Because one of my favorite songs is by Ministry. Well, it's not really one of my favorite songs, but I never know when spooky month starts and ends. Because one of my favorite songs is by Ministry. Well, it's not really one of my favorite songs, but it's an interesting song. It's called Every Day is Halloween. And I like the concept of it, but you know what bothers me the most about that song, Every Day is Halloween? There's no space

between every and day. And every day, when you're talking about every single day, is two words. Every day is instead an adjective describing something that is commonplace. And so that song bothers me. But that's not why you're here. You're not here to hear my pedantic takes on old goth songs. You're here for the Cool Zone Media Book Club, the only book club where you don't have to do the reading because i do it for you i'm your host margaret killjoy and for

spooky month i'm gonna read you spooky stories only this first one that i want to read you the one i'm going to read you today okay you know how i like reading you all old vampire stories i'm probably gonna do that a whole bunch more because i really like the old vampire stories i like the old stories old horror because they were super earnest you didn't have to talk about how everyone knows everything about vampires and you know whatever mythical creature you just do it you could just talk about things earnestly as if you weren't in conversation with all of the things that came before it. But then this week's story, it's from 1902 and it is in conversation with previous vampire fiction, but in an interesting way. One of the stories that I read you a long time ago was The Vampire and it was basically about how Lord Byron is pretty much a vampire right and it's pretty literal and it draws clearly from the vampire legends of eastern europe in which they're a little bit more like they're more like general monsters in the older stories

right and the vampire from oh i want to say 18 like 15 or something but i can't remember it's the first time you have the aristocratic vampire. And so you start getting this idea of the vampire as this kind of class indicator of the way that the rich suck the blood out of everything. Now, what if you took a story like that and you left only the metaphor? And you left only the metaphor. You might get a story like Mary Wilkins Freeman wrote. A story called Luella Miller. And that's what we're going to read today.

On spooky month about the way that spooky rich people extract our value. Don't worry, it's not like quite as over the top as that. Although it's not that far from it. I hope you enjoy it. Luella Miller by Mary Wilkins Freeman. Close to the village street stood the one-story house in which Luella Miller, who had an evil name in the village, had dwelt. She had been dead for years, yet there were those in the village who, in spite of the clearer light which comes on the vantage point from a long-past danger, half believed in the tale which they had heard from their childhood.

In their hearts, although they scarcely would have owned it, was a survival of the wild horror and frenzied fear of their ancestors who had dwelt in the same age with Luella Miller. Young people, even, would stare with a shudder at the old house as they passed, and children never played around it as there was their want around an untenanted building. Not a window in the old Miller house was broken. The panes reflected the morning sunlight in patches of emerald and blue, and the latch of the sagging front door was never lifted, though no bolt secured it. Since Luella Miller had been carried out of it, the house had had no tenant except one

friendless old soul who had no choice between that and the far-off shelter of the open sky. soul who had no choice between that and the far-off shelter of the open sky. This old woman, who had survived her kindred and friends, lived in the house one week. Then one morning no smoke came out of the chimney, and a body of neighbors, a score strong, entered and found her dead in her bed. There were dark whispers as to the cause of her death, and there were those who testified to an expression of fear so exalted that it showed forth the state of the departing soul upon the dead face. The old woman had been hale and hearty when she entered the house, and in seven days she was dead. It seemed that she had fallen a victim to some uncanny power.

The minister talked in the pulpit with covert severity against the sin of superstition. Still, the belief prevailed. Not a soul in the village but would have chosen the almshouse rather than that dwelling. No vagrant, if he heard the tale, would seek shelter beneath that old roof, unhallowed by nearly a half-century of superstitious fear. There was only one person in the village who had actually known Llewellyn Miller. That person was a woman well over 80, but a marvel of vitality and unextinct youth. Straight as an arrow, with the spring of one recently let loose from the bow of life,

she moved about the streets, and she always went to church, rain or shine. She had never married, and she had lived alone for years in a house across the road from Luella Miller's. This woman had none of the garrulousness of age, but never in all her life had she ever held her tongue for any will save her own, and she never spared the truth when she assayed to present it. She it was who bore testimony to the life, evil, though possibly wittingly or designedly so, of Luella Miller and to her personal appearance. When this old woman spoke, and she had the gift of description, although her thoughts were clothed in the rude vernacular of her native village, one could seem to see Luella Miller as she had really looked. According to this woman, Lydia Anderson by name, Luella

Miller had been a beauty of a type rather unusual in New England. She had been a slight pliant sort of creature, as ready with a strong yielding to fate and as unbreakable as a willow. She had glimmering lengths of straight, fair hair, which she wore softly looped round a long, lovely face. She had blue eyes full of soft pleating, little, slender, clinging hands, and a wonderful grace of motion and attitude. Luella Miller used to be sitting in a way nobody else could if they sat up and studied a week of Sundays, said Lydia Anderson, and it was a sight to see her walk. If one of them willows over there on the edge of the brook could start up and get its roots free of the ground and move off,

it would go just the way Luella Miller used to. She had a green shot silk she used to wear too, and a hat with green ribbon streamers, and a lace veil blowing across her face and out sideways, and a green ribbon flying from her waist. That was what she came out bride in when she married Erastus Miller. Her name before she was married was Hill. There was always a sight of L's in her name, married or single. Erastus Miller was good looking too, better looking than Luella. Sometimes I used to think that Luella wasn't so handsome after all. Erastus just about worshipped her. I used to know him pretty well. He lived next door to me and we went to school together. Folks used to say he was waiting on me, but he wasn't. I never thought he was, except once or

twice when he said things that some girls might have suspected meant something. That was before Luella came here to teach the district school. It was funny how she came to get it, for folks said she hadn't any education and that one of the big girls, Lottie Henderson, used to do all the teaching for her while she sat back and did embroidery work on a cambric pocket handkerchief. Lottie Henderson was a real smart girl, a splendid scholar, and she just set her eyes by Luella, as all the girls did. Lottie would have made a real smart woman, but she died when Luella had been here about a year. Just faded away and died. Nobody knew what ailed her. What I'm thinking ailed her was that she didn't have the products and services that support this show. If only she'd had those products and services, maybe she would have survived to become that smart scholar indeed. Black Lit, the podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature.

I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me and a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. Thank you. behind them. Blacklit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Blacklit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hola mi gente, it's Honey German and I'm bringing you Gracias, Come Again, the podcast where we dive deep into the world of Latin culture, musica, películas, and entertainment with some of the biggest names in the game. If you love hearing real conversations with your favorite Latin celebrities,

artists, and culture shifters, this is the podcast for you. We're talking real conversations with our Latin stars from actors and artists to musicians and creators sharing their stories,

struggles, and successes. You know it's going to be filled with chisme laughs and all the vibes that you love. Each week, we'll explore everything

from music and pop culture to deeper topics like identity, community, and breaking down barriers in all sorts of industries. Don't miss out on the fun, el te caliente, and life stories. Join me for Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get into todo lo actual y viral. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, better offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry veteran with nothing to lose. This season, I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel-winning economists to leading journalists in the field, and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming

and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong, though. I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough. So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com. Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts.

Check out betteroffline.com. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, a five-year-old boy floated alone in the ocean. He had lost his mother trying to reach Florida from Cuba. He looked like a little angel. I mean, he looked so fresh. And his name, Elian Gonzalez, will make headlines everywhere. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian.

Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez. At the heart of the story is a young boy and the question of who he belongs with. His father in Cuba. Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom.

At the heart of it all is still this painful family separation. Something that as a Cuban, I know all too well. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, as part of the My Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Gianna Parenti. And I'm Jimei Jackson-Gadsden.

We're the hosts of Let's Talk Offline, the early career podcast from LinkedIn News and iHeart Podcasts. One of the most exciting things about having your first real job is that first real paycheck. You're probably thinking, yay, I can finally buy a new phone. But you also have a lot of questions like, how should I be investing this money? I mean, how much do I save? And what about my 401k?

Well, we're talking with finance expert Vivian Tu, aka Your Rich BFF, to break it all down. I always get roasted on the internet when I say this out loud, but I'm like every single year, you need to be asking for a raise of somewhere between 10 to 15%. I'm not saying you're going to get 15% every single year, but if you ask for 10 to 15 and you end up getting eight, that is actually a true raise.

Listen to this week's episode of Let's Talk Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back. She dragged herself to the schoolhouse and helped Luella teach till the very last minute. The committee all knew how Luella didn't do much of the work herself, but they winked at it. It wasn't long after Lottie died that Erastus married her. I always thought he hurried it up because she wasn't fit to teach. One of the big boys used to help her after Lottie died, but he hadn't much government and the school didn't do very well.

help her after Lottie died, but he hadn't much government and the school didn't do very well, and Luella might have had to give it up, for the committee couldn't have shut their eyes to things much longer. That boy that helped her was a real honest, innocent sort of fellow, and he was a good scholar too. Folks say he overstudied, and that was the reason he took crazy the year after Luella married. But I don't know. I don't know what made Erastus Miller go into consumption of the blood the year after he was married. Consumption wasn't in his family. He just grew weaker and weaker

and went almost bent double when he tried to wait on Luella. And he spoke feeble like an old man. He worked terrible hard till the last trying to save up a little to leave Luella. I've seen him out in the worst storms on the wood sled he used to cut and sell wood, and he was hunched up on top looking more dead than alive. Once I couldn't stand it, I went over and helped him pitch some wood onto the cart.

I was always strong in my arms. I wouldn't stop for all he told me to, and I guess he was glad enough for the help. That was only a week before he died. He fell on the kitchen floor while he was getting breakfast. He always got breakfast and let Luella stay abed. He did all the sweeping and washing and ironing and most of the cooking. He couldn't bear to have Luella lift her finger, and she let him do for her. She lived like a queen for all the work she did. She didn't even do her sewing. She said it made her shoulder ache to sew, and poor Erastus's sister Lily used to do all her sewing. She wasn't able to either. She was never strong in her back. But she did it beautifully.

She had to to suit Luella. She was so dreadful particular. I never saw anything like the faggot and hemstitching that Lily Miller did for Luella. She made all of Luella's wedding outfit and the green silk dress after Maria Babbitt cut it. Maria, she cut it for nothing, and she did a lot more cutting and fitting for nothing for Luella too. Lily Miller used to live with Luella after Erastus died. She gave up her home, though she was real attached to it and one a mite afraid to stay alone. She rented it and she went to live with Luella right away after the funeral. Then this old woman, Lydia Anderson, who remembered Luella Miller,

would go on to relate the story of Lily Miller. It seemed that on the removal of Lily Miller to the house of her dead brother to live with his widow, the village people first began to talk. This Lily Miller had been hardly past her first youth, and a most robust and blossoming woman, rosy-cheeked with curls of strong black hair overshadowing round, candid temples and bright dark eyes. It was not six months after she had taken up her residence with her sister-in-law that her rosy color faded, and her pretty curves became wan hollows. White shadows began to show in the black rings of her hair, and the light died out of her eyes, her features sharpened,

and there were pathetic lines at her mouth, which yet always wore an expression of utter sweetness and even happiness. She was devoted to her sister, there was no doubt that she loved her with her whole heart, and she was perfectly content in her service. It was her sole anxiety lest she should die and leave her alone. The way Lily Miller used to talk about Luella was enough to make you mad and enough to make you cry, said Lydia Anderson. I've been there sometimes towards the last when she was too feeble to cook and carried her some blanc mange or custard, something I thought she might relish and she'd thank me. And when I asked her how she was, she said she felt better than she did yesterday

and asked me if I didn't think she looked better. Dreadful, pitiful, and say poor Luella had an awful time taking care of her and doing the work. She wasn't strong enough to do anything. When all the time, Luella wasn't lifting a finger, and poor Lily didn't get any care except what the neighbors gave her, and Luella ate up everything that was carried in for Lily. I had it real straight that she did. Luella used to just sit and cry and do nothing. She did act real fond of Lily, and she pined away considerable too. There was those that thought she'd go into decline herself. But after Lily died, her Aunt Abby Mixter came and then Luella picked up and grew as fat and rosy as ever. But poor Aunt Abby begun

to droop the way Lily had. And I guess somebody wrote her married daughter, Miss Sam Abbott, who lived in Barr. For she wrote her mother that she must leave right away and come to make her a visit, but Aunt Abby wouldn't go. I can see her now. She was a real good looking woman, tall and large, with a big square face and a high forehead that looked of itself kind of benevolent and good. She just tended out on Luella as if she had been a baby, and when her married daughter sent for her, she wouldn't stir one inch. She'd always thought a lot of her daughter, too, but she said Luella needed her and her married daughter didn't.

Her daughter kept writing and writing, but it didn't do any good. Finally, she came, and when she saw how bad her mother looked, she broke down and cried and all but went on her knees to have her come away. She spoke her mind out to Luella, too. She told her that she'd killed her husband and everybody that had anything to do with her, and she'd thank her to leave her mother alone. Luella went into hysterics, and Aunt Abby was so frightened that she called me after her daughter went.

Mrs. Sam Abbott, she went away fairly crying out loud in the buggy, and the neighbors heard her, and well she might, for she never saw her mother again alive. I went in that night when Aunt Abby called for me, standing in the door, with her little green-checked shawl over her head. I can see her now. Do come over here, Miss Anderson, she sung out, kind of gasping for breath. I didn't stop for anything. I put over as fast as I could, and when I got there, there was Luella laughing and crying altogether, and Aunt Abby trying to hush her, and all the time she herself was as white as a sheet, shaken so she could hardly stand. For the land's sakes,

Mrs. Mixter, says I, you look worse than she does. You ain't fit to be up out of your bed. Oh, there ain't nothing the matter with me, says she. Then she went on talking to Luella. There, there, don't, don't. Poor little lamb, says she. Aunt Abby is here. She ain't going away and leave you. Don't, poor little lamb. Do leave her with me, Mrs. Mixter, and you get back to bed, says I, for Aunt Abby had been lying down considerable lately, though somehow she contrived to do the work. I'm well enough, says she. Don't you think she had better have the doctor, Mrs. Anderson? The doctor, says I, I think you had better have the doctor. I think you need him

much worse than some folks I could mention. And I looked right straight at Luella Miller, laughing and crying and going on as if she was the center of all creation. All the time she was acting so, seemed as if she was too sick to sense anything. She was keeping a sharp lookout as to how we took it out of the corner of her eye. I see her. You could never cheat me about Luella Miller. Finally, I got real mad and I run home and I got a bottle of valerian I had and I poured some boiling hot water on a handful of catnip. And I mixed up that catnip tea with most a half a wine glass of valerian. And I went over with it to Luella as I marched right up to a Luella holding out that cup all smoking. Now, says I, Luella Miller, you swaller this.

What is it? Oh, what is it? She sort of screeches out. Then she goes off a laughing enough to kill. Poor lamb, poor little lamb, says Aunt Abby, standing over her all kind of tottery and trying to bathe her head with camphor. You swallow this right down, says I. And I didn't waste any ceremony. I just took a hold of Luella Miller's chin and I tipped her head back and I caught her mouth open with laughing and I clapped that cup to her lips and I fairly hollered at her, swaller, swaller, swaller, and she gulped it right down. She had to and I guess it did her good. Anyway, she stopped crying and laughing and let me put her to bed and she went to sleep like a baby inside half an hour.

That was more than poor Aunt Abby did. She lay awake all that night and I stayed with her, though she tried not to have me, said she wasn't sick enough for watchers. But I stayed and I made some good cornmeal gruel and I fed her a teaspoon every little while all night long. It seemed to me as if she was just dying from being all wore out. In the morning, as soon as it was light, I run over to the Bisbee's and send Johnny Bisbee for the doctor. I told him to tell the doctor to hurry, and he come pretty quick. Poor Aunt Abby didn't seem to know much of anything when he got there. You couldn't hardly tell she breathed she was so used up. When the doctor had gone,

Luella came into the room looking like a baby in her ruffled nightgown. I can see her now. Her eyes were as blue and her face all pink and white like a blossom, and she looked at Aunt Abby in the bed, sort of innocent and surprised. Why, says she. Aunt Abby ain't got up yet. No, she ain't, says I, pretty short. I thought I didn't smell the coffee, No, she ain't, says I, pretty short. I thought I didn't smell the coffee, says Luella. Coffee, says I. I guess if you have coffee this morning, you'll make it yourself.

I never made the coffee in all my life, says she, dreadful astonished. Erastus always made the coffee as long as he lived, and then Lily made it, and then Aunt Abby made it. I don't believe I can make the coffee, Miss Anderson. You can make it or go without, just as you please, says I. Ain't Aunt Abby gonna get up, says she. I guess she won't get up, says I, sick as she is. I was getting madder and madder. There was something about that little pink and white thing standing there and talking about coffee, when she had killed so many better folks than she was,

and had just killed another, that made me feel most as I wish somebody would up and kill her before she had a chance to do any more harm. Is Aunt Abby sick, says Luella, as if she was sort of aggrieved and injured? Yes, says I, she's sick, and she's gone die, and then you'll be left alone, and you'll have to do for yourself and wait on yourself, or do without things. I don't know, but I was sort of hard, but it was the truth, and if I was any harder than Luella Miller had been, I'll give up. I ain't never been sorry that I said it. Well, Luella, she up and had hysterics again at that, and I just let her have them. All I did was to bundle her into the room on the other side of the entry where Aunt Abby couldn't hear her. If she went past it, and I don't know, but she was,

and set her down hard in a chair and told her not to come back into the other room, and she minded. She had her hysterics in there until she got tired. When she found out that nobody was coming to coddle her and do for her, she stopped. At least I suppose she did. I had all I could do with poor Aunt Abby trying to keep the breath of life in her. The doctor had told me she was dreadful low and give me some very strong medicine to give her in drops real often and told me real particular about the nourishment. Well, I did as he told me,

real faithful till she wasn't able to swallow her any longer. Then I had her daughter sent for. I had begun to realize that she wouldn't last any time at all. I hadn't realized it before, though I spoke to Luella the way I did. The doctor, he came, and Mrs. Sam Abbott. When she got there, it was too late. Her mother was dead. Aunt Abby's daughter just give one look at her mother laying there. She turned sort of sharp and sudden and looked at me. Where is she? And I knew she meant Luella. She's out in the kitchen, says I.

She's too nervous to see folks die. She's afraid it'll make her sick. The doctor speaks up then. He was a young man. Old Dr. Park had died the year before. And this is a young fellow just out of college. Mrs. Miller is not strong, says she, kind of severe, and she is quite right in not agitating herself. You are another young man. She's got her pretty claw on you, thinks I, but I didn't say anything

to him. I just said over to Mrs. Sam Abbott that Luella was in the kitchen, and Mrs. Sam Abbott, she went out there, and I went too, and I never heard anything like the way she talked to Luella Miller. I felt pretty hard to Luella myself, but this was more than I ever would have dared to say. Luella, she was too scared to go into hysterics. She just flopped. She seemed to just shrink away to nothing in that kitchen chair, with Mrs. Sam Abbott standing over her and talking and telling her the truth. I guess the truth was most too much for her, and no mistake, because Luella presently actually did faint away, and there wasn't any sham about it, the way I always suspected there was about them hysterics. She fainted dead away, and we had to

lay her flat on the floor, and the doctor, he came running out and said something about a weak heart, dreadful fierce to Mrs. Sam Abbott. But she wasn't a mite scared. She faced him just as white as even Luella was laying there, looking like death, and the doctor feeling her pulse. Weak heart, says she. Weak heart, weak fiddlesticks. There ain't nothing weak about that woman. She's got strength enough to hang on to other folks till she kills them. Weak? It was my poor mother that was weak. This woman killed her as sure as if she had taken a knife to her.

But the doctor, he didn't pay much attention. He was bending over Luella, laying there with her yellow hair all streaming and her pretty pink and white face all pale and her blue eyes like stars gone out. And he was holding on to her hand and smoothing her forehead and telling me to go get brandy in Aunt Abby's room and I was as sure as I wanted to be that Luella had gotten somebody else to hang on to. Now Aunt Abby was gone and I thought of poor Erastus Miller and I sort of pitied the young doctor led away by a pretty face and I made up my mind I'd see what I could do.

And so she used the products and services in this show to defeat the greater enemy that is the metaphor for the rich upper class and how they don't do anything and expect the working class to do it and then act like they're the rich ones and get real upset when you call them on their shit. That's the products and services. That's what they can do for you.

Hey, I'm Jack Peace Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Black Lit. The podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature. I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me in a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters.

From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Black Lit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. amplify the voices of black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into how tech's elite has turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry

veteran with nothing to lose. This season I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel winning economists to leading journalists in the field and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong though, I love technology. I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough. So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever else you get your podcasts.

Check out betteroffline.com. Hola mi gente, it's Honey German and I'm bringing you Gracias, Come Again. The podcast where we dive deep into the world of Latin culture, musica, peliculas, and entertainment with some of the biggest names in the game. If you love hearing real conversations with your favorite Latin celebrities, artists, and culture shifters, this is the podcast for you. We're talking real conversations with our Latin stars, from actors and artists to musicians and creators, sharing their stories, struggles, and successes. You know it's going to be filled with chisme laughs and all the vibes that you love. Each week, we'll explore everything from music and pop culture to deeper topics like identity, community, and breaking down barriers in all sorts of industries. Don't miss out on the fun, el té caliente, and life stories. Join me for Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German,

where we get into todo lo actual y viral. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, a five-year-old boy floated alone in the ocean. He had lost his mother trying to reach Florida from Cuba. He looked like a little angel. I mean, he looked so fresh. And his name, Elian Gonzalez, will make headlines everywhere. Elian Gonzalez.

Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez will make headlines everywhere. Elian Gonzalez. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez. At the heart of the story is a young boy and the question of who he belongs with. His father in Cuba. Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or his relatives in Miami.

Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. At the heart of it all is still this painful family separation. Something that as a Cuban, I know all too well. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, as part of the My Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Gianna Parente. And I'm Jimei Jackson-Gadsden. We're the hosts of Let's Talk Offline, the early career podcast from LinkedIn News and iHeart Podcasts. One of the most exciting

things about having your first real job is that first real paycheck. You're probably thinking, yay, I can finally buy a new phone. But you also have a lot of questions like, how should I be investing this money? I mean, how much do I save? And what about my 401k? Well, we're talking with finance expert Vivian Toot, aka Your Rich BFF, to break it all down. I always get roasted on the internet when I say this out loud, but I'm like, every single year, you need to be asking for a raise of somewhere between 10 to 15%. I'm not saying you're going to get 15% every single year, but if you ask for 10 to 15 and you end up getting eight, that is actually a true raise. Listen to this week's episode of Let's Talk Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back.

I waited till Aunt Abby had been dead and buried about a month, and the doctor was going to see Luella steady, and folks were beginning to talk. Then one evening, when I knew the doctor had been called out of town and wouldn't be around, I went over to Luella's. I found her all dressed up in a blue muslin with white polka dots on it, and her hair curled just as pretty, and there wasn't a young girl in the place could compare with her. There was something about Luella Miller seemed to draw the heart right out of you, but she didn't draw it out of me. She was sitting, rocking in the chair by her sitting room window, and Maria Brown had gone home.

Maria Brown had been in to help her, or rather, to do the work, for Luella wasn't helped when she didn't do anything. Maria Brown was real capable, and she didn't have any ties. She wasn't married and lived alone. And so she'd offered. I couldn't see why she should do the work any more than Luella. She wasn't any too strong, but she seemed to think she could, and Luella seemed to think so too. So she went over and did all the work, washed and ironed and baked, while Luella sat and rocked. Maria didn't live long afterward. She began to

fade away just the same fashion the others had. Well, she was warned, but she acted real mad when folks said anything, said Luella was a poor abused woman, too delicate to help herself, and they'd ought to be ashamed, and if she died helping them that couldn't help themselves, she would. And she did. I suppose Maria has gone home, says I to Luella when I had gone in and sat down opposite her. Yes, Maria went about a half hour ago, after she had got supper and washed the dishes, said Luella in her pretty way. I suppose she has got a lot to work to do in her own house tonight, says I, kind of bitter. But that was all thrown away on Luella Miller. It seemed to her right that other folks that want any better than she was herself should wait on her. And she couldn't get it through her head that anybody should think it wasn't right.

Yes, said Luella, real sweet and pretty. Yes, she said she had to do her washing tonight. She has let it go for a fortnight along of coming over here. Why don't you stay home and do her washing instead of coming over here and doing your work when you are just as well able and enough sight more so than she is to do it, says I. Then Luella looked at me like a baby who has had a rattle shook at it. She sort of laughed as innocent as you please. Oh, I can't do the work myself, Miss Anderson, says she. I never did. do the work myself, Miss Anderson, says she. I never did. Maria has to do it. Then I spoke out.

Has to do it, says I. Has to do it. She don't have to do it either. Maria Brown has her own home and enough to live on. She ain't beholden to you to come over here and slave for you and kill herself. Luella, she just sat and stared at me for all the world like a doll baby that was so abused that it was coming to life. Yes, says I. She killing herself. She gonna die just the way Erastus did and Lily and your Aunt Abby. You're killing her just as you did them. I don't know what there is about you, but you seem to bring a curse, says I. You kill everybody that is fool enough to care anything about you and do for you.

She stared at me and she was pretty pale. And Maria ain't the only one you're gonna kill, says I. You're gonna kill Dr. Malcolm before you're done with him. Then a red color came flaming all over her face. I ain't gonna kill him either, says she, and she begun to cry. Yes, you be, says I. Then I spoke as I never spoke before. You see, I felt it on account of Erastus. I told her that she hadn't any business to think of another man after she'd been married to one that had died for her. That she was a dreadful woman. And she was, that's true enough. But sometimes I have wondered lately if she knew it. If she weren't like a baby with scissors in its hand, cutting everybody without

knowing what it was doing. Luella, she kept getting paler and paler, and she never took her eyes off my face. There was something awful about the way she looked at me and never spoke one word. After a while, I quit talking and went home. I watched that night, but her lamp went out before nine o'clock, and when Dr. Malcolm came driving past and sort of slowed up, he see there wasn't any light, and he drove along. I saw her sort of shy out of meeting the next Sunday too, so he shouldn't go home with her, and I begun to think maybe she did have some conscience after all. It was only a week after that Maria Brown died, sort of sudden at the last, though everybody had seen it was coming. Well, then there was a good deal of feeling and pretty dark whispers folks said that the days of witchcraft had come again and

they were pretty shy aluella she acted sort of offish to the doctor and he didn't go there and there wasn't anybody to do anything for her i don't know how she did get along i wouldn't go in there and offer to help her not because i was afraid of dying like the rest, but I thought she was just as well able to do her own work as I was to do it for her, and I thought it was about time she did it and stopped killing other folks. But it wasn't very long before folks began to say that Luella herself was going into decline, just the way her husband and Lily and Aunt Abby and others had, and I saw myself that she looked pretty bad. and Lily and Aunt Abby and others had, and I saw myself that she looked pretty bad. I used to see her go and pass from the store with a bundle as if she could hardly crawl,

but I remember how Erastus used to wait and tend when he couldn't hardly put one foot before the other, and I didn't go out to help her. But at last, one afternoon, I saw the doctor come driving up like mad with his medicine chest, and Mrs. Babbitt came in after supper and said that Luella was real sick. I'd offer to go in and nurse her, says she, but I've got my children to consider, and maybe it ain't true what they say, but it's queer how many folks that have done for her have died. I didn't say anything, but I considered how she'd been Erastus's wife and how he had set his eyes by her, and I made up my mind to go in the next morning, unless she was better, and see what I could do. But the

next morning, I see her at the window, and pretty soon, she came stepping out as spry as you please, and a little while afterward, Mrs. Babbitt came in and told me that the doctor had got a girl from out of town, a Sarah Jones, to come there, and she said she was pretty sure that the doctor was going to marry Luella. I saw him kiss her in the door that night myself, and I knew it was true. The woman came out that afternoon, and the way she flew around was a caution. I don't believe Luella had swept since Maria had died. She swept and dusted and washed and ironed. Wet clothes and dusters and carpets were flying over

there all day, and every time Luella set her foot out when the doctor wasn't there, there was Sarah Jones helping her up and out and down the stairs as if she hadn't learned to walk. Well, everybody knew that Luella and the doctor were going to get married, but it wasn't long before they began to talk about his looking so poorly, just as they had about the others. And then they talked about Sarah Jones, too. Well, the doctor did die and he wanted to be married first so as to leave what little he had to Luella, but he died before the minister could get there and Sarah Jones died a week afterward. Well, that wound everything up for Luella Miller. Not another soul in the whole town would lift a finger for her. There got to be a sort of panic. Then she

began to droop in good earnest. She used to have to go to the store herself, for Mrs. Babbitt was afraid to let Tommy go for her. And I've seen her going past and stopping every two or three steps to rest. Well, I stood it as long as I could, but one day I see her coming with her arms full and stopping to lean against the Babbitt fence, and I run out and with her arms full and stopping to lean against the babbit fence, and I run out and took her bundles and carried them to her house. Then I went home and never spoke one word to her, though she called after me, dreadful kind of pitiful. Well, that night I was taken sick with a chill, and I was sick as I wanted to be for two weeks. Mrs. Babbitt had seen me run out to help Luella, and she came in and told me I was going to die on account of it. I didn't know whether I was or not, but I considered I had done right

by Erastus's wife. That last two weeks, Luella, she had a dreadful hard time, I guess. She was pretty sick, and as near as I could make out, nobody dared to go near her. I don't know if she was really needing anything very much, for there was enough to eat in her house and it was warm weather and she made out to cook a little flour gruel every day i know but i guess she had a hard time and but i guess she had had a hard time she that had been petted and done for all her life when i got so i could get out i went over there one morning mrs babbitt had just come in to say she hadn't seen any smoke and she didn't know but but it was somebody's duty to go in. But she couldn't help thinking of her children and I got right up, though I hadn't been out of the house for two weeks and I went in there and Luella was laying on the bed and she was dying. She lasted all that day and into the night, but I sat there

after the new doctor had gone away. Nobody else dared to go there. It was about midnight that I left her for a minute and run home and get some medicine I had been taking, for I'd begun to feel rather bad. It was a full moon that night, and just as I started out my door to cross the street back to Luella's, I stopped short, for I saw something. Lydia Anderson at this juncture always said with a certain defiance that she did not expect to be believed, and then proceeded in a hushed voice, I saw what I saw, and I know I saw it, and I will swear on my deathbed that I saw it. I saw Luella Miller, and Erastus Miller, and Lily, and Aunt Abby, and Maria, and the doctor, and Sarah,

all going out of her door, and all but Luella shone white in the moonlight, and they were all helping her along till she seemed to fairly fly in the midst of them. Then it all disappeared. I stood a minute with my heart pounding, then I went over there. I thought of going for Mrs. Babbitt, but I thought she'd be afraid. So I went alone, though I knew what had happened. Luella was laying real peaceful, dead on her bed. This was the story that the old woman, Lydia Anderson, told. But the sequel was told by the people who survived her. And this is the tale which has become folklore in this village.

Lydia Anderson died when she was 87. She had continued wonderfully hale and hearty for one or two years until about two weeks before her death. One bright moonlit evening, she was sitting beside a window in her parlor when she made a sudden exclamation and was out of the house and across the street before the neighbor who was taking care of her could stop her. She followed as fast as possible and found Lydia Anderson stretched on the ground before the door of Luella Miller's deserted house, and she was quite dead. The next night, there was a red gleam of fire athwart the moonlight, and the old house of Luella Miller was burned to the ground. Nothing is now left of it except a few old cellar stones

and a lilac bush. And in summer, a helpless trail of morning glories among the weeds, which might be considered emblematic of Luella herself. The end. That's the story.

And I find it so fascinating because I'm like, I wonder how far back the idea of this sort of psychic vampire goes. And I like how like its first incarnation, I mean, obviously this is very gendered, right? But it's about the like helplessness of people who aren't working and are expecting others to do the work for them. And obviously, right, it gets real complicated when you put it in the conception of like disability and understanding disability. I think based on what I understand of Mary Wilkin Freeman's other work, this is

more of a class thing. Specifically, Mary was very actively a proto-feminist and also wrote specifically about the underclasses a lot. And that doesn't mean that everything she did was like good and perfect or that the story is good and perfect but i just like i find it so fascinating also because it's still kind of a vampire story right you're stripping away the like can't go in the sun afraid of crosses hungry for blood but it's still this like slow draining of everyone around you that comes that's like mapped to the upper classes. And then also that last bit, the last little like actual ghost story part kind of puts it firmly in the, this is a little supernatural tale. And it's still got all the like Gothic stuff

of the spooky manor and the like, now all that's left are the flowers that grow there. So I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. And next week I'll read you more spooky stories unless I read you something different but it'll probably be spooky because every day with a space is Halloween. It Could Happen Here is a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media visit our website coolzonemedia.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 at coolzonemedia.com slash sources. Thanks for listening. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds

and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season or wherever you get your podcasts veteran with nothing to lose. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,

wherever else you get your podcasts from. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming. This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking.

It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards. Welcome to Gracias Come Again, a podcast by Honey German, where we get real and dive straight into todo lo actual y viral. We're talking musica, los premios, el chisme, and all things trending in my cultura. I'm bringing you all the latest happening in our entertainment world

and some fun and impactful interviews with your favorite Latin artists, comedians, actors, and influencers. Each week, we get deep and raw life stories, combos on the issues that matter to us, and it's all packed with gems, fun, straight-up comedia, and that's a song that only Nuestra Gente can sprinkle. Listen to Gracias Come Again on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, five-year-old Cuban boy Elian Gonzalez was found off the coast of Florida. And the question was, should the boy go back to his father in Cuba?

Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or stay with his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.