Tales From Wolf Mountain
A bevy of continually strange and occasionally macabre stories from the creative minds behind Wolf Mountain Workshop - Monte D. Monteleagre and Alexander Wolfe. It is our home for short-run audio fiction.
Join us around the fire.
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Season 1 (12 Episodes): Voices From The Umbra
The collected recordings of four survivors of an apocalypse on Other-Earth where people are combined together into monstrosities, or thrust aloft to dangle from organs that once gave them life.
Season 2 (2 Episodes): Double Feature
Two short radio plays, the first following three people trying to escape their lives and the second following a man trapped in his.
Season 3 (5 Episodes): Genuine Radio
Either a collection of radio broadcasts from Wolf Mountain and the surrounding areas, or is a vain attempt to turn what might well have been an award winning breakdown into something resembling art.
Season 4 (9 Episodes): The City Unending
A guide for those Pilgrims who will soon come of age and be called West comprised of stories collected from The City Unending.
Tales From Wolf Mountain
5-12 On Roads
Offer a message for your place around the fire.
For mature audiences only. Content warnings for The Book of Ezekiel Bradshaw are at the bottom of this description.
The Cabby. Bandit. Concentrated nicotine poisoning. A broken facsimile.
The Book of Ezekiel Bradshaw is written by Monte D. Monteleagre and produced by Wolf Mountain Workshop.
The voice of Ezekiel Bradshaw is Monte D. Monteleagre.
Special thanks to Edie Pierce, Alexander Wolfe, and Edward Hoffman.
For more from Wolf Mountain Workshop, visit our website https://www.wolfmountainworkshop.org/
Content Warnings: Self-harm, suicide, violence, murder, drug use, cult imagery and iconography, religious imagery and iconography, manipulation, domestic abuse, abuse of children, and more.
My friend the Cabby found himself in a middle-sized city in the middle of the country after a middle-life bender that left him two friends down and no money to his name.
He took to driving drunk folks from the bars to the suburbs and that kept a dollar or two in his pockets.
His first friend, the Cabby told me and The Trolley Man on a ride across town, was a man named Wizard who killed himself in an unremarkable fashion, and so The Cabby bought anything with a wizard on it to remember him.
The second friend, a man named Bandit, is still alive, but The Cabby didn’t know that at the time. He mourned them both the same.
Bandit drove through a neighborhood at 107 mph without once touching his brakes and rolled his two-and-a-half ton pick-up through a reasonable used sedan, killing a woman and her pregnant friend instantly.
Bandit didn’t feel like sticking around after that. He made some friends who agreed that he would be declared dead in exchange for a couple of favors he’s never going to be able to pay off, and now he slips just a little bit of concentrated nicotine into every cup of coffee he serves two-and-a-half states away.
Not enough to kill you, just enough for you to know that something’s wrong.
And you know something’s wrong, don’t you?
The Cabby wore a bandana to remember Bandit. He told every part of the story that he knew to a nice young couple in the back of his car and, turning around in his seat to show a picture of the sign Bandit once stole from a dive bar bath room, holding his phone in both hands with tears in his eyes, he slowly veered into oncoming traffic.
This world is a broken facsimile of
What is to come.
