Episode 95 – O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Episode 95 Show Notes

Source: Romanian Folklore

This week on MYTH, we’re visiting picturesque Romania to find the oddest twins you’ve ever met. You’ll see why you shouldn’t eat someone else’s leftovers, why you should always have a magic sword handy, and why you should always follow your dreams. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s very, very hard to cheat death even when he’s just a voice. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 95, “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Our wild ride of a story this week comes from the Romanian Fairy Tales collection compiled by Mite Kremnitz in 1885. It begins with a familiar fairy tale plight – a childless couple who seek out magical help to conceive the baby they so desperately want. Unlike the farmer and his wife who grew to resent Hans-My-Hedgehog in Episode 93, this couple was an emperor and an empress (possibly of the Bulgarian Empire or the Ottoman Empire, though nothing in the story clarifies this so pick your favorite). Being royalty, they did what rich people do – they threw money at the problem. They summoned all the wizards and witches and astrologers and wise old women for miles around. They gathered together and poked and prodded the couple, but their assembled wisdom proved inadequate. None of them knew how to help the royal couple.
Having exhausted magic and science, they turned to religion. The pair devoted themselves to fasting, praying, and giving alms to the poor as days turned into weeks. One night, as the couple collapsed depressed into their beds as they did every night, the empress had a dream. The Lord appeared before her, saying ‘I have heard your prayers and will give you a child unlike any that can be found on the face of the earth. If you want this child, do as I say. Tomorrow, your husband must go to the brook with a hook and a fishing line and then you shall prepare what he catches with your own hands, then both of you eat what you cook.” The dream ended and the empress awoke.
The sun hadn’t yet begun to rise above the horizon, but the empress leapt into action. She shook her husband awake. “Get you ass up, my husband. It’s morning. There’s shit to do.” He rubbed his eyes groggily, noting the fact that it was still very much dark. “This is what you call morning? We better be getting invaded for you to wake me up so damned early.” She rolled her eyes. “Heavens forbid. No, it’s good news – I have had a dream.” She told him what she had dreamed and, to his credit, he didn’t ask questions but chose to trust his wife implicitly. He jumped out of bed, threw on clothes, and grabbed a hook and a fishing line. Being royalty, he wasn’t really used to doing this much work himself but he didn’t want to leave anything to chance so he was gasping for breath as he approached the brook.
Reaching the shore, he tossed the line into the water. It didn’t take long at all for the cork to start bobbing wildly on the waves. He’d hooked something! The emperor was thrilled and pulled the line in. There on the hook was a fish, and not just any fish but a huge golden one. Not golden in color, mind you, but actually made of solid fucking gold. This was clearly a miracle, proving the empress’ dream true. He rushed straight home clutching his precious prize to show his wife, who was absolutely over the moon at the unbelievable sight. Truly, they were blessed. She took the golden fish and immediately prepped and cooked it. I can’t imagine that she’s done much of her own cooking, but she did her level best and both of them ate the fish down to the last morsel. A feeling of fulfillment settled over the empress and she was sure that their prayers would be answered.
Full and happy, the couple left the table and went about their day leaving the remnants to be cleaned up by the staff. As the maid was clearing away the empress’ plate, she noticed a fish bone still sitting there. A powerful urge struck her to suck on the bone to get just a taste of how the upper crust lived. I mean, how often do you get a chance to taste food cooked by actual royal hands? She sucked on the bone (which definitely feels sexual) and went away satisfied as she cleaned up everything else.
Time passed, and the empress gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Everyone agreed that he was as gorgeous as a little angel (and not just because he was royalty and they had to say that). In a very strange coincidence that was not at all a coincidence, the maid servant also gave birth to a beautiful baby boy on the very same day. In an even bigger definitely not a coincidence, the maid’s baby looked eerily similar to the little prince. In fact, one might say they looked completely identical. They were basically identical twins from different mothers who looked so much alike that even their mothers could never be sure who was who. The royal boy was named Busujok and the common boy was named Siminok.
Being born on the same day and looking so miraculously alike, the two boys were raised together as brothers in all but name. They were taught their lessons together and, shocking their tutors, they learned as much in a single day as most children learned in an entire year. Truly, they were miracle babies. The empress delighted in watching the two of them playing together in the garden, squealing and giggling the way children do.
Time passed and the two boys became tall, handsome youths and, if anything, they looked even more identical with each passing day. Both had a proud demeanor but were also charming, captivating speakers, and brave. Above all brave, to a fault even. They both had a habit of taking risks and expecting things to work out (and it always did).
One day, when they were both young men, they resolved to go on their very first hunting trip together. The older they got and the more it became apparent that they were supernaturally identical, the more the empress became worried about the two switching places, either by accident or design. You know, prince and pauper style. Given the fairy tale logic that started this story, it’s not an entirely unreasonable concern. She fretted about what to do and soon resolved to put some kind of secret mark on her prince to distinguish him. As you might guess, that’s not the easiest thing in the world to do to someone on short notice without them, you know, realizing you’re doing something weird.
The empress, however, was quite clever. She called her son over and, under the guise of fixing his hair in that maternal way mothers often have, she secretly knotted two of his locks together. None the wiser, the prince endured his mother’s fussing for a bit before gently but firmly disengaging and setting out with best friend and sort of brother to go hunting. Eventually.
See, these two boys were very much of the ‘frolic in nature’ type of people and so they felt in no particular hurry to actually get down to the business of hunting. They skipped around through verdant fields like joyful lambs (the actual image from the original story, mind you), gathered pretty blossoms, sprinkled dew over themselves, watched in silent wonder at the butterflies flitting from flower to flower, watched bees buzz around their hives, and generally had good clean fun. When they were hot and sweaty, they went to a pond to drink the cool, sweet water and then watch the clouds. They were absolute pictures of youthful innocence. This is a fairy tale though, so you know that shit can’t last.
Having gotten their fill of field-frolicking, they headed at last into the woods. As noted, this was their first hunting trip and, moreover, it was their first trip far beyond the walls of the palace. They had never been allowed into the woods before and so they were well and truly awe-stricken at the sights they beheld. The wind rustled gently through the leaves, sounding for all the world like the empress strolling by and drawing her long silken train behind her. At last they came to a huge oak tree in a large glade and sat down in the soft grass beneath it to rest and discuss their next steps.
The semi-brothers were only interested in killing the acceptable range of wild beasts that were proper for young men to hunt. They didn’t notice the diverse group of birds perched above them on the branches of the oak tree, but if they had they wouldn’t have hurt them for all the world. The birds seemed to sense this and gathered around, singing a swelling, joyous song loud enough to split the very air around them. The sweet music lulled the young men until the prince felt utterly overcome with fatigue. To be fair, they’d had a very big day so far. He lay down with his head in his almost-brother Siminok’s lap and asked him to stroke his hair the way the empress did. In most stories, this would come off as very psycho-sexual, but these two are spiritual twins and (as the dream promised) unlike any other children to walk the earth. Their extremely close bond is not surprising, given their supernatural origin.
Siminok was happy to oblige Busujok but stopped in puzzlement when his fingers found the knotted lock of hair. “What is going on with your head, Brother Busujok?” “How should I know, Brother Siminok? You’re the one able to see it – you tell me.” “Well, it looks like two locks of your hair have been deliberately knotted together. Weird, right?” Busujok agreed that it was indeed weird. In fact, the strangeness of it gnawed at him, erasing his earlier fatigue. He couldn’t let this honestly pretty inane oddity go and decided that this simply would not do. “Brother Siminok, I can’t understand why my mother the empress would tie my hair like this. She must have done it while she was stroking it, but that makes no sense! The only reasonable reaction to this is for me to set out into the wide world alone and explore.” No, I don’t know how the hell he leapt from point A to point B on this one but, to the story’s credit, neither did his brother.
Siminok tried his best to talk Busujok out of this incredibly hasty plan, assuring him that the empress must have had a perfectly innocent reason for her actions. She certainly hadn’t intended any evil to her son, and nothing in the story so far has given him any reason to be suspicious of his mother, but the prince remained firm in his resolve that the knotted hair meant he had to journey into the world. Standing up to leave, he handed Siminok a handkerchief, telling him that if his brother ever saw three drops of blood on the cloth, then he would know that the prince was dead. No, I also don’t know why he has such an absurdly specific magical artifact on him either. Maybe it’s some magical power he has, but that’s just as inexplicable. “If you’re absolutely determined to do this ridiculous thing, then I wish you luck and happiness brother, but it’s not too late to just…not do that and come home.” Busujok hugged his brother. “Impossible. Bye!”
Siminok watched his brother until he was lost to sight, always hoping he’d change his mind. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to come back, Siminok mourned and headed home to deliver the sad news. The empress…didn’t take it well. She wept and wailed and wrung her hands but, to her credit, she completely trusted Siminok and didn’t do any of the typical evil queen shit that you might expect from the setup of this story. She took what comfort she could in her son’s semi-twin still being around and from the magical handkerchief. That is, until one day, years later, when Siminok checked it and found it spotted with three drops of bright blood.
In a move that was equal parts nonsensical and understandable, Siminok declared that his royal brother was certainly dead and that he had to set out at once to look for him. Maybe he just wants the closure of knowing what happened. Regardless, he gathered up provisions and set out after his long lost brother. With little more than a direction to go on, he traveled far and wide, passing through small villages and mighty cities, passing through fields and forests, and generally looking everywhere there was to look until at last he reached a small hut.
An old woman lived there all alone and she was glad for the company of the wandering Siminok. He asked about his brother, a young man who looked exactly like himself and, to his great joy, the old woman told him that she did indeed know of such a man. He had married the princess who ruled the kingdom he was currently in and become the son-in-law of the emperor here. Rejoicing that he was finally on the trail, Siminok hurried to the emperor’s palace at once. Inside said palace, the princess was waiting for her husband Busujok’s return and spied Siminok hurrying towards them. Understandably certain that this was her beloved husband returning at last, she rushed out to embrace him and bury him in kisses. Siminok did his best to fend off the ardent princess, insisting that he was not in fact Busujok but his identical brother. “I have received word that he is dead and came to learn the truth of things and maybe to learn something of his life.”
I’m guessing that Busujok had never mentioned he had an identical brother, because the princess absolutely refused to believe it. I mean, maybe he had but she hadn’t expected this level of eerie sameness. Even with identical twins, those closest to them can usually spot some small differences to tell them apart. As the story has made clear several times, these two were absolutely identical in appearance in a way that no two living people have ever been. “Busujok, why are you saying such things? Why are you denying our love, denying me? Have I ever deceived you? Do you feel the need to test my faith?” Siminok reiterated that he was definitely not the man she thought, but she was convinced he was lying for some inexplicable reason.
Frustrated, Siminok looked about and saw a sword hanging on the wall. Giving more credence to the whole ‘the supernatural twins have magical powers that have never been explained’ theory, he gestured at the weapon. “The Lord will show the truth of things. Let the sword over there scratch whichever one of us is mistaken.” No sooner had he spoken these words than the sword leapt off the wall of its own accord and cut the princess’ fingers. It was not a deep cut, but the sight of her own blood was enough to convince her that what this man said, as impossible as it sounded, must be true. Apologizing to the man she now recognized as her brother-in-law, she welcomed him into the palace as an honored guest.
They spoke at length and Siminok learned that his brother had gone out hunting and never returned. This was the clearest lead he’d had in his entire search so, the next day, he set out early with a borrowed horse and a pack of greyhounds to track down his missing brother. The princess was more than happy to give him what he needed in the hopes that he could find and return her beloved Busujok back to her. Following his brother’s trail, Siminok headed into a forest until he came upon another, different old woman living in the woods. Somehow (maybe those unspecified powers or maybe just profiling) he was certain that this old woman was a wood witch and an evil one at that so he charged at her. Understandably, she fled her enraged attacker and ran deeper into the woods.
She ran as fast as she could, but it quickly became apparent that she was fucked. She was an old woman, witch or no, and she couldn’t outrun greyhounds and a horse. Doing the only thing she could think of, she shimmied up a tree. The dogs were not fooled in the slightest and bayed at their treed quarry. Siminok dismounted beneath the cornered witch, tied up his horse, and made camp. Building a large fire, he began to cook dinner for himself, occasionally tossing morsels to the greyhounds gathered around the tree.
Up in her cold, uncomfortable tree, the witch’s teeth began to chatter and her stomach began to rumble. She was, in a word, miserable. “Oh dear, I’m so very cold. My teeth are chattering from the awful chill,” she said to herself but very much loudly enough to make sure that the man below could hear her. “Well then come down and warm yourself by the fire,” offered Siminok. The old woman looked fearfully at the greyhounds. “I would but your dogs frighten me.” “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you. They’re very well trained.” “I’m sure they are, but I would feel better if you tied them up. Here, use a strand of my hair to do the job.” That is an oddly specific offer. Siminok could put two and two together to get witch. His brother had clearly come this way and had likely run afoul of this wicked old hag.
To gain her trust, Siminok took the proffered hair and made a show of tying up the dogs, but dropped the hair in the fire. I don’t know if you’ve ever accidentally set your hair on fire before (what can I say, I’m clumsy) but burning hair smells truly terrible. It’s a pungent odor and one the witch could clearly smell wafting up from below. She was understandably suspicious of this very suspicious odor and she voiced this suspicion. Siminok scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous! I would never do such an awful thing. One of my hounds just wasn’t careful of the fire and got its little tail scorched a little. That’s what you smell. Look, I don’t really care if you come down or not, but the fire is bright and warm so do what you want.” The witch considered this. She wasn’t entirely sure about this situation, but she was very cold and very hungry, so she decided to risk it.
She shimmied down the tree and joined the young man, who was still happily munching away on his provisions, by the fire. She eyed his food, stomach audibly rumbling. “The fire is indeed warm, but I have to admit that I’m famished.” Siminok eyed her back. “I have plenty of food – you’re welcome to share, if you like. Take as much as you want.” Suspicious or not, Siminok was raised to treat guests hospitably and he’s going to do the polite thing. The witch smiled, a huge toothy grin that spread across her face Grinch-style. “You look more delectable than anything else here – I think I’ll eat you instead. Prepare to die!” Siminok rolled his eyes. “I tried to be polite, foul witch. You asked for it – get her!” On command, the pack of dogs (who had of course never been tied up) tore into the surprised witch and began to rip her to pieces.
It’s kind of hard to cast any spells while being attacked by angry dogs – the witch never had a chance. As it became clear that she was not going to win this fight, she called out in desperation. “Stop, please! Don’t let your dogs devour me and I’ll give you back your brother along with his horse and dogs! Please, just spare my life.” Siminok called off his greyhounds, but made it very clear that they were ready and able to jump her ass again if she tried anything. Resigned, the witch concentrated and then vomited up Busujok, his horse, and his pack of dogs in three disgusting spurts. As soon as they were all out (and probably extremely confused and nauseated by the sudden turn of events), Siminok loosed his dogs again. She screamed in fear and pain, having held up her end of the bargain, but Siminok did not relent. For having eaten his beloved brother, the sentence was death by mauling.
Once the dogs had finished their gruesome feast and Busujok had come to his senses (it’s unclear if the witch had swallowed them all whole Cronus-style or just reconstituted their bloody bodies with magic), he went to Siminok. “Brother, it’s wonderful to see you! I’m not sure exactly what has happened, but I think I have been asleep for a very long time.” Siminok laughed. “You could say that. If I hadn’t come looking for you, brother, you would have slept soundly until the end of the world.” He caught Busujok up on what had happened since they had last spoken all those years ago. Busujok was grateful for his brother’s help but his time on his own had changed him some. He was less trusting than he once had been (getting eaten by a witch can do that, I suppose). Hearing that his identical brother had been staying with his beloved wife, he was immediately suspicious. Siminok insisted that nothing had happened, that he had explained to the princess that he was her brother-in-law and it was all very civil (which is essentially true even if he had to use strange sword magic to convince her). Busujok was incensed with jealousy and refused to believe that his brother had been the perfect gentleman. He knew how beautiful his wife was and how ardent in her love, so he was certain that his brother would have given into the temptation to fuck this beautful woman who thought she loved him. He simply could not believe the simple truth – that such an idea had never entered into the innocent head of Siminok.
Consumed by his jealousy, Busujok harangued his brother until he agreed to a truly absurd agreement: they would tie bandages around the eyes of their horses to blind them and then do the same to themselves. They would then mount their horses and let fate guide them wherever they were destined to go, literally trusting blind luck. It was a foolhardy plan but Siminok loved his brother and, having just returned him from beyond the grave, he was not willing to lose him again over a simple misunderstanding. If this was what it took to earn Busujok’s trust again, then so be it.
Binding everyone’s eyes tightly, the two brothers awkwardly mounted their horses and let them ride where they willed. For their part, the horses were not thrilled about this, but they were well-trained so they obeyed although they stuck close to each other for equine comfort. They rode like this, almost napping from the rhythmic walk of the horse and the utter darkness they moved in. Busujok was snapped out of his reverie by an odd strangled cry and a splash from beside him. It took some doing to untie the tightly wound bandages, but he eventually did so, blinking at the sudden brightness. Siminok was nowhere to be seen, but he found that his horse stood at the top of a small rise and at the bottom lay a deep spring. Siminok’s horse had clearly stumbled into the water and, being blinded and caught in the saddle, they had both been drowned and carried away. Siminok had traveled many miles to rescue his brother from beyond death and had been killed by jealousy for his concern.
Deeply depressed, Busujok rode the rest of the way home alone. His wife rushed out to greet him, confirming that he was indeed her lost husband before throwing herself into his arms. Still gripped by doubt, Busujok kept her at arm’s length and questioned her about what had happened while he’d been, well, mostly dead. To his mingled relief and horror, she told exactly the same tale that Siminok had told only she made him look even more virtuous than in his own version by refusing her attempted, confused advances on the person she thought was her husband. Still he was unsure and so he pulled the same magic trick that Siminok had pulled. I’m guessing hearing how Siminok had used the sword to prove he wasn’t Busujok gave him the idea. Again, the sword leapt off the wall on its own accord to scratch the one who was wrong. Busujok winced and looked at his bleeding fingers in horror. His brother had been innocent. And now he was dead, and it was all Busujok’s fault. All of this begs the question of why he didn’t just use the sword trick to check his brother’s story instead of his terrible, terrible blindfold plan,
The prince mourned his dead brother, weeping and lamenting his haste and his mistrust but it was of course in vain. Siminok was well and truly dead, and there was no evil witch to vomit him back up again. Even supernatural heroes have limits. Busujok’s grief grew day by day until finally he could stand it no longer. Riding out into the forest alone one morning, he bound up his own eyes and those of his horse near the spot where Siminok had perished. Spurring his mount into a dead run, he raced over the edge of the rise and crashed into the same spring that had taken his brother. He too drowned and was carried away by the same waters that had borne his brother’s body. I get the melancholy impulse here, but did he really have to bring his horse into his suicide pact just for the symmetry? The two magical young men were both dead but not gone. With both of them gone from the earth, their soon rose the morning star, Busujok, and the evening star, Siminok and the two have been rising and setting opposite the other, brother forever tailing behind brother for all eternity.
I honestly can’t tell if the star-crossed ending is meant to be a happy conclusion or a mournful one. It’s kind of a mix of both, much like the story itself. Maybe that’s the point. Either way, the brothers are now among the stars, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s existential dread is the voice of death.
This story, which also hits on a lot of themes we’ve seen in previous tales, comes from Andrew and Nora Lang’s Fairy Books, a collection published between 1889 and 1913. Once upon a time, there was a man who dreamed of being rich. How wasn’t terribly important as long he became just disgustingly rich. As noted in the classic Citizen Kane, it’s very easy to make a lot of money if all you care about is making a lot of money. This particular dude-bro thought of nothing else, even dreamed of nothing else, and so in time his prayers were answered – he became very, very rich.
You’ve probably heard that ‘you can’t take it with you’ and that idea made this man wake up in a cold sweat. Being so very rich, he had a lot to lose and he couldn’t help but think it would be a crying shame if he died and had to leave all his shit behind. The more he thought about it, the more unfair it seemed and so at last he resolved to set out in search of a land where there was no death. He packed everything he thought he would need, said goodbye to his wife, and headed out on his quest.
His methodology was very simple – every time he came to a new country, he just asked whether people died there. I’m sure the wandering rich asshole must have gotten a lot of very strange looks at this bonkers question, but he didn’t much care. As soon as he got confirmation that death did indeed exist, he set out for an even more distant place. The story doesn’t say how long he traveled like this but at long last, he did indeed find a country where the people did not even know what the word ‘death’ meant. I don’t know if our rich guy protagonist just spoke a shit-ton of languages or if everyone in this fairytale realm all spoke the same language, but I’m leaning towards the latter.
To his credit, he did at least ask a follow-up question. “So no one ever dies, huh? Cool, cool cool cool. I guess that means you must have just a ton of people right? Since everyone just kind of keeps on living?” The random person shook their head. “No, not at all. You see, from time to time people will hear a voice calling to them that no one else can hear. They of course get up and go answer this voice, going away never to be seen again.” The rich guy thought this sounded a lot like death but with extra steps, but it was the closest he’d found. “Okay, so this voice – is it the disembodied kind or do these people see someone talking to them?” “Oh they see and hear him.”
That settled it for the rich man. It sounded like all you had to do to live forever was just, like, ignore the voice. He was amazed that these sheeple just did what some random voice said and walked to their own probable doom. He set out at once for his own home to gather up his wife and family (maybe children but definitely servants) to move to this fabulous deathless country. On the way, he warned them about this mysterious voice and told them all to just ignore it if they heard it, no matter how loud it called them.
They made their way safely to their new home and settled down. Things went well and everyone was very happy (which is fairly easy to accomplish when you have enough money). One day, they were all sitting around the table together when the wife suddenly stood up. “Okay, I’m coming!” She began scurrying around the room looking for her best fur coat but her very alarmed husband leapt to his feet and grabbed her by the hand. “What the ever-loving hell are you doing, woman? Don’t you remember what I told you when we moved here? Unless you want to die, stay right here and ignore that damned voice!” She struggled to shake her hand free. “Don’t you hear the voice though? It’s fine; I’ll just go see what he wants and then come right back. Don’t worry. Now let me go!”
She struggled to get away, but her husband held on with all his might, certain that his wife was about to march off to her own demise. He ordered all of the doors shut and bolted so that she could not leave the house. Seeing that she was basically trapped, the woman stopped struggling and sighed. “Alright, fine my dear husband. I shall do as you wish and stay here.” Pleased that she had finally come to her senses and listened to him, he let her go and sat back down, as did she. He was unfortunately too busy congratulating himself to notice that his wife had in fact found and donned her coat before sitting at the table.
She waited until he was momentarily distracted before leaping up from the table and dashing for the nearest door. Undoing the lock and throwing it open, she raced outside followed closely by her husband. He managed to get close enough to grab the tail of her fur coat and yanked, begging her to listen to reason. She said nothing in response, shrugging smoothly out of the coat and continuing on. He stumbled as she freed herself and could only watch helplessly as she ran off into the distance shouting to the unseen voice that she was coming.
When she had finally passed out of sight, her husband shook himself out of his stupor and headed back inside, muttering to himself. “Well so be it. If that silly woman is gullible enough to follow a voice to her death, even though I warned her, then that’s on her. I told her very clearly what to do, so this is definitely all her fault.” Never mind that he’s the one who moved them out to this strange land because he was so terrified of death. In his mind, that was utterly beside the point.
Days turned into weeks and then into years, and the household adjusted to their new normal. Things were about as happy as they’d ever been since the man had just as much money as ever (if not more with one less person to take care of). One day, the man headed out to get a shave at his preferred barber as was his usual custom. The shop was full but, since he was a regular (and more importantly, very rich) he was able to get in the chair with no difficulty. No sooner had his chin been lathered up when the man leapt out of the chair angrily. “Absolutely not. I’m not listening to you, voice! You hear me? I’m not coming! Lalalalala!” Satisfied, he sat back down only to leap back to his feet again. “Fuck you! I said no, and that is that! Leave me alone or I swear I’ll make you pay. You can call as much as you like, but you’ll never convince me to walk blithely to my own death like the rest of those assholes.”
It was clear that the voice was ignoring his outburst because the man just kept getting angrier and angrier. He wasn’t exactly used to being ignored like this and to everyone else in the shop, it seemed for all the world like there was someone standing unseen in the doorway taunting him mercilessly. It didn’t take long for the rich man to decide he’d had enough of this bullshit. He grabbed the razor out of the barber’s hand and ran for the door. “I warned you! Now I’m going to teach you to leave people alone!” After recovering from shock, the barber raced out after his client, determined not to lose his razor (which was not cheap at the time).
The two of them raced at full speed through the town until they left the last of the houses behind and headed out into the wilderness beyond. The barber chased the rich thief well beyond town when the rich man suddenly disappeared with a surprised yelp over the edge of a cliff. The barber pulled up short, considered for a moment, and then went home whistling. On the one hand, he’d lost his razor; on the other, he hadn’t run to his doom like the man he’d been chasing. All in all, he thought he’d come out ahead.
He went back to town and described what had happened. No one had ever followed anyone following the voice before (I guess they all just kind of accepted it as totally normal there since, you know, it basically was there). It soon became widespread knowledge that everyone who had followed the mysterious voice must have fallen into that pit. Naturally, people became curious about this and wanted to see what the hell was so alluring about it. A party gathered and headed out to find this death pit that had swallowed so many people and yet was never full of corpses. Only, they couldn’t find any such pit. It seemed to have vanished as thoroughly as any of the people who had followed the voice (or the voice’s owner himself, for that matter). Where the barber had described a massive, unmissable pit there was only a broad, endless, and very flat plain that looked as though it had been there forever. There was clearly no pit there and never had been, but from that day onward, the people in that distant country began to die just like everyone else the world over.
And that’s it. There’s no explanation for any of it and the mysterious voice is never identified. Much like death itself, it remains an unsolvable mystery that only those who have gone into that mysterious void never to return can truly understand. That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re headed to the ancient kingdom of Maripur for some wicked beasties. You’ll discover that werewolves are not the only werecreatures, that Animorphs got a lot of things right, and that crows are smarter than you give them credit for. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll learn how to win a footrace no matter how outmatched you are. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.