Fireside Folklore with Hades

Hello From La Tomatina

Send over your dead SMS messages. Hey there, listeners! Hermes here. My uncle is ... well, for lack of a better word, analog. He's still trying to figure out how to use "emotion tags", because grave and somber Lord of the Dead makes the machine scream. While we wait on him, (yes, the script was written and I'm just waiting to be called upon to give you those Fun Facts), you get to hear me saying hello to you at the biggest food fight in the world. Yup! The La Tomatina festival is the largest food fight in the world and it’s held in Buñol, Spain, each year. It apparently started when a quarrel broke out at the Giants and Big-Heads Parade. During this quarrel, the crowd laid waste to a nearby vegetable stall by hurling tomatoes at one another. It took about 12 years for the festival to gain traction, and it was even banned for a time by Francisco Franco due to its lack of religious significance, but the people prevailed with their protests culminating in a staged funeral featuring funeral marches and pallbearers carrying a coffin in which a gigantic tomato rested. Since this 1957 funeral, the people have enjoyed La Tomatina, which takes place on the last Wednesday in August each year. If you’re planning to go next year, that’s Wednesday, August 25, 2027. Listeners, since my uncle is in an implacable mood right now, and he's been getting way too many fraudulent invoices and unauthorized credit card usage phishes, if you have any commentary, you can send me a message at Hermes@firesidefolklorewithhades.com and between Olympian decrees from Zeus, guiding souls for Hades, and trying to catch the latest and greatest event, (wherever it may be), I'll reply. I can't guarantee it will be a true one, (since the story is always going to win out over the facts in my book), but I can guarantee Hermetic wit. If you really want to invoice him for services you never actually rendered, well, he's at Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com but don't say I didn't warn you!

The Comb Of Covetous Wishes

Send over your dead SMS messages. Pssst, listeners! Hermes here. Since Uncle H is still holed up writing this podcast's script, I called in a favor from my old man. Here's a teaser of the next episode. Don't look at me! I'm the God Of Commerce. What can I say? Now, for those of you thinking that Uncle H made an oath ... I hate to be the bearer of bad news but he said "I shall endeavour to ..." which usually means: "I am the Lord of the Dead and I shall find time in my very busy schedule listening to the appeals of fighting farmers in Asphodel ... wait! You thought the Underworld was just a grey wasteland of mindless shades? Boy have I got a story to tell you, but that's for another time. For now, enjoy this little teaser from our latest sponsor.

Gambas al Ajillo, Or Persephone Sings a Recipe

Send over your dead SMS messages. Hello everyone! My husband has become a bureaucratic nightmare. He says that the podcast must start following the Orpheus Protocol, and to keep Hermes from paying hefty fines, I would have to adhere to it going forward. I have no idea how anybody's expected to actually make the recipe if we do that, but if it keeps my half-brother out of having to pay off one of his debts accruing my husband's incredibly unforgiving interest rates, then it looks like I'll have to comply. Osiris, stop selling this as a ringtone in the Nile OS store, okay? I'm not as gracious as Hestia. Nor as much of a homebody! I know that's what you did with Hestia's bird aria! And you clearly did that with "Hollow Peace" too. For those of you who may be interested in making the featured recipe, you'll find it below. My love, for this episode, I chose to provide a recipe for Gambas al Ajillo, which is an appetizer consisting of shrimp with garlic sauce. Tapas, what we call appetizers, are popular in Spain, and this one is absolutely incredible! Here is what you will need. 1 1/2 pounds (or about 680 grams) shelled and deveined large shrimp, tails intact Kosher salt 1/4 cup (or four tablespoons) thinly sliced garlic; that’s a lot of garlic! About 13 cloves. 1 1/4 cups (300 milliliters) extra-virgin olive oil (choose an oil that is fragrant and medium in body) 1 small dried hot red chile, seeded and crumbled 1/2 cup (about 120 milliliters or 32 grams) minced parsley 2 tablespoons dry sherry, such as manzanilla 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest Crusty bread, for serving Clams, diced ham, or chorizo, (optional) Place the shrimp into a large bowl and add in a teaspoonful of salt. Incorporate it thoroughly so that the juices can be drawn out of the shrimp. Set it aside for ten minutes. Be sure you wash your hands well after dealing with raw seafood! You don’t want to end up going to the Underworld before your time, after all. My husband may seem like a big Teddy bear, but in his eyes, rules are rules so you’ll probably end up in the Asphodel Meadows which are, for lack of a better phrase, mind-numbingly boring! So boring in fact that dying of boredom would be a whole lot more fun! Not even being a fan of this podcast would grant you quarter in the palace. All right, now, in a large enameled cast-iron skillet, toss the olive oil and garlic and cook it at fairly low heat. You want to let the flavors really meld without burning the garlic or making your smoke detectors go off. The garlic will make your kitchen smell amazing, and should begin turning brown. I’d say just under ten minutes. Add in that chili and stir it into the garlic until you can smell it, 15 to 30 seconds, so don’t walk away! Now throw in the shrimp and stir it in the pan, letting all that yummy garlic coat it. Do this until they’re just starting to get pink, around five minutes, more or less. Finish the sauce by tossing in the other ingredients: the sherry, lemon zest, parsley, and a large pinch of salt. Stir until combined and move the pan to a cool burner. Let the heat from the cast iron skillet continue cooking the shrimp through for another 3 to 5 minutes. Enjoy this dish and don’t forget to use some nice crusty bread to scoop up every dollop of extra garlicky goodness. If shrimp isn’t your thing, (or even if it is!), you can enjoy this sauce with clams, diced ham, or chorizo. As ever, please send any feedback or dead letters to Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com.

• Transcript

Breaking the Silence

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! Hermes here! Yes, I said Hermes! I'm here to tell you all that I quit! Yes, I was keeping this podcast running ... sort of ... until I could teach my uncle how to use the Internet, a microphone, and the podcasting host. Now? I'm a traveling god. As a traveling god who has things to do and places to be, I'm hading this thing off to the one god who always stays. Yes, the Lord of the Dead himself! Listen as I complain about having to manage things and tell you all just exactly what this podcast is all about. We really had no idea until a midnight epiphany. Now? All I can say is the stories should release on a more reliable schedule. And if by chance that doesn't happen? Don't look at me! As ever, any and all mail should go to Hades at hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. You're welcome!

• Transcript

Hollow Peace

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners. It's been some time since we've convened on this feed. The production of that Jewish folktale we had intended to produce has been difficult. The anger has been immense, and so has the grief. So, rather than force something, we wrote a song in response to the "ceasefire" that was, at its core, political theater orchestrated by the West. Three versions. Three singers. The same haunting lyrics as interpreted by Ares, Persephone, and myself. We will continue without a plan, tell the stories we feel like telling, and see what unfolds. The wound on humanity still bleeds, thus our continued struggle to tell the Jewish folktale remains. We will not allow it to guilt us into stone cold silence. Whether this means a continuation of this season as it stands, a return to the days of this podcast's beginning when tales were explorations without social conflicts tied to them, or something entirely new, we cannot say. We only know that creativity allows us to endure, and endure we shall. I refuse to allow this podcast to become a tomb because one story, still too raw to be told, could not be told and time slipped away, and apathy calcified into abandonment. Onward. Feedback may be sent, as ever, to Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. [verse 1] The war is over, A ceasefire has begun! There will be peace and prosperity, For everyone! There's no need to cry; the hostages are free. Now we can celebrate the return of liberty. Raise up the flags, strike up the band, Proclaim the dawn of peace across the land. Banners can't cover the bones buried beneath, And musicians can't mask the cries of grief. [chorus] Do you think we are fools who can just simply forget, That we watched you shamelessly livestream a genocide? Oh, you'll try to shove distracting headlines down our throats, But your crimes aren't the kind you can easily hide. [Verse 2] You paint the blood with olive oil, You crown the graves with light. But silence cannot sanctify What’s buried out of sight. You call it peace; I call it pause, A treaty sealed with deceit. For truth does not bloom in the ash, Nor justice in the street. [chorus] Do you think we are fools who can just simply forget, That we watched you shamelessly livestream a genocide? Oh, you'll try to shove distracting headlines down our throats, But your crimes aren't the kind you can easily hide. [Bridge] The cameras dim, the headlines fade, But echoes never die. The River Lethe cannot cleanse A mother’s final cry. [final chorus] Do you think we are fools who can just simply forget, That we watched you shamelessly livestream a genocide? Raise your glass to hollow peace and gilded lies. The living forget ; the dead remember, with open eyes. The living forget ; the dead remember, with open eyes.

• Chapters

Selling the Underworld, Part 3.1 - Riding to the Styx, Little Red Riding Hood

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! Just when I thought we'd be getting back to the serious business of telling some real folklore, Mr. President made it very clear he wouldn't be waiting on Pennsylvania Avenue when there was an Underworld to tour. Thus, I asked Thanatos to make sure the man was brought safely to the Underworld. Safely doesn't mean quickly, however, my friends. Oh no. It just means he won't get waylaid by any shades ... yet. Of course, Mr. President being who he was, he just couldn't enjoy the ride like a normal human being. So instead, we got to hear his promises about how he'd make Little Red Riding Hood great again. And, though it pains me to admit this, he does have a point. Several of them, actually, but don't take my word for it. As ever, if you have any feedback, please send your dead letters to me, Hades, at hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. Disclaimer From the Lord of the Dead This episode is a work of satire, deliberate as ritual, and grim as prophecy. No events depicted herein are factual—though truth often chooses to wear a mask when it walks among the living. It is forged in the long and hallowed tradition of folklore: that ancient mortal craft of cloaking truths in tales, mocking kings through riddles, and laughing at monsters to rob them of power. Just as mortals once whispered of tyrants as toads and foxes in the safety of hearth-lit tales, so too do we now cloak modern hubris in mythic absurdity. The Underworld is not for sale, nor would I entrust its keys to a man who cannot distinguish a coin for Charon from a coin for Musk. This performance is an exercise of protected speech, under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution—a right mortals too often squander until the silence is all that remains. To fear satire is to fear reflection, and the dead do not flinch from mirrors. “Ἐν τοῖς σκιώδεσι, ἡ ἀλήθεια ψιθυρίζει.” “In the shadows, truth whispers.” Listen well. Laugh deeply. And remember: not all jokes are harmless… but the ones that bite are often the ones you needed to hear. — Hades, King of the Dead, Keeper of Oaths, and Guardian of Folklore’s Flame

Letter of Atonement

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings listeners, this podcast has been quiet in the last few months, and I finally have understood why. Quiet doesn't mean death; quiet is a time of reflection and understanding. Our writer has been wrestling with a personal quandary which has prevented her from working on this podcast, and she's finally decided to bring it into the light. As such, we'll be changing our next full-length episode, listeners, and share a story from her childhood. It's been lost to time, known apparently only to her and the few lucky enough to have read Cricket one holiday season, more than twenty years ago. This is her atonement ... for swiping left. As ever, if there is any feedback, I'm at hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com.

Selling the Underworld, Part II: Hades's Musical Counterpoint

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! In this musical counterpoint, I sing a song that Mr. President will never hear. You see, my singing might scare him off, and I can't do that. Not yet. After all, I'm trying to sell my realm, and if there's no leader to buy it, then I can't take my much-needed retirement. So, within the confines of my chariot, I belt this out while Thanatos laughs. Thanks, Reaper. As ever, any feedback may be sent to me at Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. Disclaimer From the Lord of the Dead This episode is a work of satire, deliberate as ritual, and grim as prophecy. No events depicted herein are factual—though truth often chooses to wear a mask when it walks among the living. It is forged in the long and hallowed tradition of folklore: that ancient mortal craft of cloaking truths in tales, mocking kings through riddles, and laughing at monsters to rob them of power. Just as mortals once whispered of tyrants as toads and foxes in the safety of hearth-lit tales, so too do we now cloak modern hubris in mythic absurdity. The Underworld is not for sale, nor would I entrust its keys to a man who cannot distinguish a coin for Charon from a coin for Musk. This performance is an exercise of protected speech, under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution—a right mortals too often squander until the silence is all that remains. To fear satire is to fear reflection, and the dead do not flinch from mirrors. “Ἐν τοῖς σκιώδεσι, ἡ ἀλήθεια ψιθυρίζει.” “In the shadows, truth whispers.” Listen well. Laugh deeply. And remember: not all jokes are harmless… but the ones that bite are often the ones you needed to hear. — Hades, King of the Dead, Keeper of Oaths, and Guardian of Folklore’s Flame

• Transcript

Selling the Underworld, Part II

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! In this installment of our satirical skit, Mr. President stands outside of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, waiting for Aidoneus to pick him up in that promised chariot. Of course, Mr. President isn't thrilled about the prospect of having to dine on a platter of pomegranates, but buying a ready-made realm with a multitude of subjects eager to bow to him makes it all the more worth it. As ever, any feedback may be sent to me at Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. If you'd like to download the song, "I'm Such a Genius", you may do so here. https://www.jammable.com/conversion/jam-yLS7R1Od Disclaimer From the Lord of the Dead This episode is a work of satire, deliberate as ritual, and grim as prophecy. No events depicted herein are factual—though truth often chooses to wear a mask when it walks among the living. It is forged in the long and hallowed tradition of folklore: that ancient mortal craft of cloaking truths in tales, mocking kings through riddles, and laughing at monsters to rob them of power. Just as mortals once whispered of tyrants as toads and foxes in the safety of hearth-lit tales, so too do we now cloak modern hubris in mythic absurdity. The Underworld is not for sale, nor would I entrust its keys to a man who cannot distinguish a coin for Charon from a coin for Musk. This performance is an exercise of protected speech, under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution—a right mortals too often squander until the silence is all that remains. To fear satire is to fear reflection, and the dead do not flinch from mirrors. “Ἐν τοῖς σκιώδεσι, ἡ ἀλήθεια ψιθυρίζει.” “In the shadows, truth whispers.” Listen well. Laugh deeply. And remember: not all jokes are harmless… but the ones that bite are often the ones you needed to hear. — Hades, King of the Dead, Keeper of Oaths, and Guardian of Folklore’s Flame

• Transcript

Selling the Underworld, Part I

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings listeners, after silently watching the world burn for the past month, mustering up enough resolve to write has been ... difficult. Indeed, one wonders if ruling the Underworld is worth the trouble. Thus, I decided I needed to shake things up. Perhaps, cede the throne to one who has more vigor in him, not to mention the ambition to rule. Therefore, I took my trusted rotary phone to reach out to someone in the Upperworld who has clearly shown the world he means business. Hopefully, I'll have more to report after he comes to visit and enjoys our legendary hospitality. As ever, any feedback can be routed to me at hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. Disclaimer From the Lord of the Dead This episode is a work of satire, deliberate as ritual, and grim as prophecy. No events depicted herein are factual—though truth often chooses to wear a mask when it walks among the living. It is forged in the long and hallowed tradition of folklore: that ancient mortal craft of cloaking truths in tales, mocking kings through riddles, and laughing at monsters to rob them of power. Just as mortals once whispered of tyrants as toads and foxes in the safety of hearth-lit tales, so too do we now cloak modern hubris in mythic absurdity. The Underworld is not for sale, nor would I entrust its keys to a man who cannot distinguish a coin for Charon from a coin for Musk. This performance is an exercise of protected speech, under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution—a right mortals too often squander until the silence is all that remains. To fear satire is to fear reflection, and the dead do not flinch from mirrors. “Ἐν τοῖς σκιώδεσι, ἡ ἀλήθεια ψιθυρίζει.” “In the shadows, truth whispers.” Listen well. Laugh deeply. And remember: not all jokes are harmless… but the ones that bite are often the ones you needed to hear. — Hades, King of the Dead, Keeper of Oaths, and Guardian of Folklore’s Flame

Lore By the Lethe; Hypnos's Reluctant Sleep Stories - Visiting The Mythological Aquarium

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! After a long hiatus as we figured out our priorities and reconnected with our creativity, we decided to energize this feed with something lighthearted and fun. Our podcast has been classified by Spotify as being very much like those offering sleep stories. So, we thought it might be fun to lean into that a bit. Of course, as you should know by now, we can never seem to do anything ... right. Tonight is no exception. Hypnos, the god of sleep, is none too happy about having to get off of his cloud to tell a sleep story. Nonetheless, I managed to convince him after promising a few favors. Join him as he visits an aquarium where you'll find creatures like Hippocampi, merpeople, and Grindylows. Oh, and don't get left behind! If you have any feedback, feel free to reach out at Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com.

Forging Ahead: Changes To The Podcast's Tech and a Thank-You

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners. This is just a quick update regarding the podcast's direction. I'll be moving away from ElevenLabs due to some decisions they've made that go against my ethos as a creator. The new tech will mean a learning curve and a change to some of the voices. However, it is a small price to pay for my creative soul intact. Thank you to those who have been with me on this journey so far. I hope we'll be able to continue exploring the world of folklore together.

PSA - A Torch, Not a Trick

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners. Though my work is grim, I do my best to keep from completely falling into the cliché of the dark and brooding Lord of the Underworld. Not all of my realm’s responsibilities revolve around damnation and torment. I may be stern but cruelty? That’s a mantle for others to don. One way I tried to bridge the divide was through this podcast. I’ve wrestled with the idea for weeks, to offer up a bit of levity for April Fool’s Day as I did last year. However, it felt hollow and forced. Things topside seem to be getting worse, not better. I considered offering another happy story about absolutely nothing significant and following it up with the news that we’d decided to cut this season short, perhaps even throwing in a fear of reprisal for standing behind certain beliefs. And yet, as the god of permanence, of endings and justice, I don’t fear mortal arrest or persecution. And, I refuse to cheapen my conviction with illusion, especially not now when illusions abound. If saying “free Palestine”—asserting a people’s right to be free from colonizers, from the horrors of genocide, from an Apartheid state, and suffering— If that is what’s now being called hate speech—then the true fools are not those who cry for freedom, but those who try to silence them. The fools are those who twist compassion into crime, who cloak cowardice in legislation, and who mistake obedience for peace. They pass their decrees, thinking themselves wise, but they are jesters in the court of history. They brand dissent as danger, while they themselves unleash terror upon the innocent. They are μοροί—fools—not in the theatrical sense, but in the sacred Greek sense: μοροί, those fated to fall, for they defy the natural order. They believe themselves eternal. But I have seen kingdoms built on bones collapse into dust. And I assure you: their time will come. This podcast was never meant to soothe the ears of tyrants. It was never a salve for those who benefit from silence. It is a torch. And if the world is drowning in shadows, then so be it—I will be the flame. So on this April Fool’s Day, let it be known: We are not the fools. We are not the cowards. We are not the ones twisting reality to serve cruelty. No—those thrones sit elsewhere. And to those seated there, I offer no jest, no olive branch, no softening of the blow. Only this warning: The Underworld remembers. The dead do not forget. And the scales will balance. ... As they must.

Toss-Up Tuesday: Candy Coated Lies: On Censorship, Ignorance, and Art As Critique

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! A few things happened in my absence that compelled me to pause my work on The Wounded Lion, namely the TikTok ban and Amazon essentially deciding to brick Kindles without Internet access so that they could force consumers to purchase new devices they otherwise wouldn't need to buy. As a result, I decided to give my uncompromising commentary on censorship and the slippery slope that it inevitably creates. From updating texts to reflect current scientific information to using newer slang, to dulling the edge of the critic's blade, to outright feeding lies to the people, censorship is a dangerously insidious cancer that must be stopped before it can even take root. To highlight its effects, I share with you The Tale of Sugarabia, aptly named Candy Coated Lies for our purposes, a story about a princess who doesn't realize how her sugary fortress has hidden the rot of a manufactured life. As you listen, ask yourself whether ignorance truly can be bliss, and whether happiness can be achieved by knowing nothing at all. If you have any feedback, I am, as ever, at Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com.

Who's Who and Which Is Which?

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! We received a letter from Megaera, who wasn't at all pleased by Hermes's shenanigans last time. Perhaps I should have taken offense to my basso profundo being cloned, but he did finally keep his promise by retelling The North Wind and the Sun in an incredibly clever way. His father Zeus wasn't quite as pleased when he heard that Hermes had cloned his voice and given him the role of the North Wind. To say he'd been in a torpor was the understatement of the millennium! Where was I? Ah yes, Megaera, one of the Erinyes, was none too pleased by Hermes's shenanigans and threatened him so thoroughly he actually had a serious expression on his face, about as likely as a black hole gobbling up Earth. Not wanting his winged sandals to be taken from him, Hermes decided to make amends by hosting a little game. He'll play pairs of dialogue, things I might actually say but in some cases, would never admit to, spoken by both myself and this AI doppelgänger he managed to create which he aired last time when he took over the podcast. He'll award a gift of forty (yes, that's 40) of your mortal Euros to the one who can figure out who's who and which is which. If you'd like to participate, E-mail him, (not me, please) at Hermes@firesidefolklorewithhades.com . I'm currently buried beneath a bunch of books and scrolls, working on the next official episode for this podcast, The Wounded Lion from Spain.

Story Sunday - Hermes Retells The North Wind and the Sun, or How Fireside Folklore with Hades Was Born

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! We hope you've been enjoying your holidays with ambrosia, nectar, and divine comedy, and 2025 has treated you well. I've been keeping myself busy, spending time with my queen and contemplating new ways to make Tartarus as terrifying as it deserves to be! On this Story Sunday, we present to you a long overdue retelling of The North Wind and the Sun which my nephew Hermes was supposed to have completed last summer. Time on the divine plane is fluid, and sometimes one minute ends up being a mortal month, and a divine month can stretch into ... oh, I don't know ... more than half a year? I'm told that I can't listen to this until I publish it so its content will be just as much of a mystery to me as it will be to you. In fact, I can't even listen to it until it's graced this feed for at least a divine fortnight, which probably means a mortal year or two. Thankfully patience is a virtue I have in spades, and the Underworld is never without work to do. Enjoy, and if you have any feedback, please send it to Hermes himself at Hermes@firesidefolklorewithhades.com.

PSA: Hades On Mortal Gratitude and Folly; A Nod to Thanksgiving and a Warning Against Phishing Scams

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! In this completely unplanned interlude (whose true purpose will become clear shortly), I wish to take a moment to express my gratitude to the patrons of this podcast—those loyal listeners who gather by the fireside to hear the stories of old. Your time and dedication mean more to me than any mortal treasure ever could. It is your continued presence that motivates me to unearth tales from all corners of the globe and strive to make this the finest podcast the Underworld can produce, despite my ongoing technological aggravations—of which The Golden Pail was a prime example. Some shades in Tartarus, thinking themselves clever, disrupted the balance of sound effects and dialogue in that episode, necessitating several re-uploads. To those who may have downloaded it early, know that a more polished version now awaits you, free from (most) Eldritch mischief. Now, to the main purpose of this episode: I recently received a mortal scammer’s missive attempting to part me from the secrets of my realm. This absurdity inspired me to reach out and remind you that my website collects no personal information, nor shall I ever, under any circumstances, reach out to you unless you have done so first. Any email claiming to be from me should be treated as filth worthy of Tartarus—and cast straight into the abyss where it belongs. With that, I wish you a day of joy, connection, and apple pie—for even the Lord of the Underworld has his favorites.

• Transcript

The Golden Pail, S2E6 of Fireside Folklore with Hades

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! After many months, outtakes, and lost paperwork, we've done it! Here is the long-awaited episode, The Golden Pail, a tale from Palestine, adapted from Ibrahim Muhawi's collection of Palestinian folklore, Speak Bird, Speak Again. In this fairy tale, a prince must go on quest after quest, as the asks become outrageously more preposterous until the day of reckoning comes for a king's unscrupulous vizier. Along the way, you'll hear Hestia reluctantly sing, Athena assume the role of a fish, and Chronos lose his temper! Enjoy, and don't forget to make those Apricot Almond Spritzers. You might need one to get through this tale. Barring that, grab some popcorn. If you have any feedback, you know where to find me. Dead letters, (and only dead ones, mind you), should go to yours truly, Hades, at Hades@firesidefolklorewithhades.com. Next time, whenever that may be, we'll be featuring a tale from Spain called The Wounded Lion.

• Transcript
• Chapters

Whoopsie Wednesday: Flames of Fortune

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! As is customary for Whoopsie Wednesday, (a segment I still question the sanity of), I present to you a song that didn't make it into the final take of The Golden Pail. Nevertheless, Persephone seemed to think that it was a work worthy of a swoon. So, against my better judgment, (because she really should be saying this about my singing instead of our nephew, Hephaestus's), I'll allow this contentious piece to grace my feed as though it's her personal divine jukebox. If it weren't for the fact that she and I haven't seen much of each other owing to my recording marathon, I might actually have had the strength to overrule her.

• Transcript

PSA: The Release of the Golden Pail

Send over your dead SMS messages. Greetings, listeners! My husband is finally done with that long-awaited Golden Pail. Stay tuned because it will be released on Friday, November 22. In the meantime, I'll be sharing a song for Whoopsie Wednesday which won't be featured in the actual program. I loved it though and had to immortalize it here! Just don't tell Hephaestus or my husband though, okay?