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About this Episode
Offers dramatic narratives that delve into human emotions and experiences, each story crafted to resonate with listeners on a personal level.
Hosts & Guests
Transcript
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The price of fear brought to you by a Vilsen price.
Hello there. Do you own a cat?
Or rather, I should say, does a cat own you?
Doesn't it strike you as strange that despite centuries of domestication,
cats have never really lost their independence,
their ruthlessness.
To cat's life is still the lore of the jungle.
Just try taking liberties with your cat,
be he never so tame, and you'll soon be put in your place.
I've always had a healthy respect for cats,
despite that one time when I was forced to,
oh, but let me tell you about it.
I think I'll call the story cat's cradle.
Several years ago, I was making a movie in Germany,
and there was some sort of hold-up during shooting,
a tiresome and boring state of affairs that happens all too often.
And I found myself with some days on my hands,
so I decided to visit some of the beautiful old castles of Bavaria.
High on my attenuary was Sondaberg in Franconia,
near the Vertenberg border.
Sondaberg tends to get overlooked by the main tourist trade,
yet it is one of the most complete examples I know
of a medieval market town which has survived comparatively intact.
I checked in at one of the local hotels late one afternoon,
and while they were getting my room ready,
I sat down at one of the little tables near the door
and ordered a drink, a large tanker of their local beer, actually.
At the next table, sat a young couple whispering intently,
but their voices were angry and out of control,
and as I sat enjoying my beer, it was impossible not to overhear
that they were deep in some childish tip.
Beth, the god's sake, stop talking nonsense.
How dare you say it's nonsense.
It is nonsense, and you know it.
I never even looked at the damn woman.
I don't know how you can be so careless.
Did you see how disgustingly fat she was?
I tell you, I didn't notice her at all.
Liar.
Oh, shut up.
Oh, god, what a start to married life.
Oh look, Beth, you're tired.
I'm tired.
It's all been a strain.
Let's not say things we'll be sorry for.
Let's have an early night.
The next best thing to your German house, bro.
For the last time, I didn't fancy her.
If you're going to carry on like this every time I look at another woman,
you'd better tear my ruddy eyes out.
So now you admit you looked at her.
Oh, the heaven's sake.
The young man glanced on easily in my direction,
obviously wondering if I'd become an involuntary eavesdropper.
Of course I had.
And I certainly had no intention of making myself scarce.
Isn't this a charming town?
Yes, charming.
Delightful.
You on vacation?
Yes.
That is, we're on a honeymoon.
Oh, are you?
Are you indeed?
Well, what an ideal place to spend it.
We haven't exactly succumbed to its charms yet.
We've only just arrived.
Well, give it time.
Sondaberg is a step back into the past.
It takes a while before its charm begins to work.
It's certainly quiet, you know.
Mmm, I was here once years ago.
And I always promised myself a return visit.
Then it seemed like an oasis in a desert of insanity.
Yes, I suppose so.
Except, of course, that Sondaberg has had its own fair share of horrors, you know.
Well, that's good.
What delightful beer this is so refreshing.
And do go on, please.
Well, the castle.
Do you see it up on that rock?
Look through the window there, see?
Oh, yes.
Well, that was taken over as a headquarters for the inquisition.
Oh, the poor wretches who were incarcerated and tortured up there.
I saw the castle as we drove in.
It was beautiful, but it made me shudder.
There's not surprising.
The inquisition left several pleasant little mementos.
All in his goodest state of preservation is Sondaberg itself.
You must visit the place while you're here.
Well, that is if you're not squeamish.
Squeamish?
Look, I've got an idea.
Why don't we join up and go round the castle together tomorrow?
Well, please do, unless that is you're already busy.
Well, no, but we'd love it, wouldn't we, Beth?
Yes, yes, of course we would.
At first, I couldn't understand the young man's enthusiasm.
I mean, after all, the honeymoon is a honeymoon.
Then it struck me that he needed a defense mechanism and I would be there to guard him
from the kind of rower that I'd stumbled upon just now.
Well, at any rate, we agreed to meet in the hotel lobby at 10 o'clock in the morning.
As events turned out, I needn't have worried about breaking the idyllic atmosphere
because as we were about to set off.
Good, God, it can't be.
Price, it's you, it really is.
Hello, Malcolm.
Now, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?
I don't tell me the force to you out of the rat race at last.
Malcolm Rivers was one of the world's prize boars.
If the first prize in a competition were a part in one of Malcolm's movies,
the second prize would have been a part in two of Malcolm's movies.
Scouting locations, oh, son.
You see that castle up there?
It's just right for a new horror picture, we've got.
I'd love you to read it.
It's a great script.
Malcolm, I'm on vacation.
Can't we discuss this later or better still see my agent, huh?
Oh, yeah, yeah, but look, just let me tell you.
At this point, our taxi arrived.
It was as battered as its driver,
but we'd all agreed to leave our own transport behind.
Trouble was when Malcolm heard the driver announce
that he had come for the castle party,
he insisted on coming with us.
Castle?
Are you not meant to say you're actually going there?
Yes.
Oh, well, that's great.
I can actually show you where it all takes place.
Well, I'm telling you about it.
Malcolm, I, no, come on, don't be so coy.
There's no worse than a virgin on a wedding night.
I just couldn't shake him off.
You never could with Malcolm.
That's how he'd hustled his way to the top.
Now he attached himself to us like an incubus.
The film's all about the Sondervurgs.
You know, the family.
It's sort of pageant of atrocity.
I would have stepped back and look objectively at what each one did.
And take Elisa, for instance.
Well, I can't speak for the others.
I was doing my best not to listen.
The castle, for those who don't know it,
is built on an immensely steep rock,
dominating the town.
And on its northern side is surrounded by a moat,
which is long since been filled in.
At the foot of the wall is a very pleasant garden
with little sheltered seats,
sitting there is a good way of recovering
from the rather overpowering tour around the castle.
The girl was right.
There still was a sinister aura clinging to the place,
which even a heart and cheerful summer's morning
couldn't entirely dissipate.
And they broke in and found the girl strung up by the wrists
over the hot coals.
Incredible story.
Of course, we can't actually put all that into the picture,
but we can imply a hell of a lot.
We've got to admit, it's a damn good commercial plotline.
Now that's why it's so important to get the feel of the place where it happened.
We want to get right away from the studio.
Look, hell, they can go out and shoot a police picture
in real locations, or why not a horror picture.
Now the seventh count was a real character.
This, this you've got to hear.
They say- Mr. Rivers, do you mind if we change the subject?
My wife is feeling a bit faint.
Oh, that's too bad, Mrs.
and we haven't even seen the torture tower yet.
Now say, would your lady wife like to wait for us out here?
She could sit down there in the car?
Oh, no, I don't want to miss anything.
I'm quite alright.
I think it was probably just that steep hill and the heat.
You go on, Malcolm.
We'll catch up with you later.
Oh, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it.
Stick together through thickens in.
That's my motto.
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Finding great candidates to hire can be like, well,
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Sure, you can post your job to some job board.
But then all you can do is hope the right person comes along.
Which is why you should try Zip Recruiter for free.
At ziprecruiter.com slash zip.
Zip Recruiter doesn't depend on candidates finding you.
It finds them for you.
It's powerful technology identifies people with the right experience
and actively invites them to apply to your job.
You get qualified candidates fast.
So while other companies might deliver a lot of, hey,
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The needle in the haystack.
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within the first day.
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Oh, I know. Look at that.
It's sweet.
It can't be more than six weeks old.
It was a tiny black kitten,
which was playing with its mother near one of the seats in the garden just below us.
The cat, a great sleek creature whose coat shone in the sun.
They stretched on the grass and the kitten romped around nearer.
The mother would wave her tail for the kitten to try to clutch with its paw
or raise her feet to push the little one away as an encouragement to further efforts.
It was a charming sight.
Beth has been on to me to buy her a cat as soon as we were married.
Now I'll get no peace.
Oh, Jack, I'd like to take them both.
I wonder who they belong to.
They're not strays, and that's for sure.
Look at the condition of the mother's coat.
They probably belong to the castle.
They'd be great for the picture.
Madam, touch of atmosphere.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, push.
Oh, push.
Now, come leave them alone.
They can't get up the wall anyway.
It's far too steep.
Yes, yes, you're right.
Oh, look at the size of the mother.
We don't grow cats like that in England.
No.
Wait just a minute.
Here we are.
What are you doing?
Well, I'll just throw this stone to attract their attention.
No, don't do that.
Don't do that.
You might get the kid.
Oh, not a chance.
Nobody would take me for.
I may produce movies, but I'm not all that bad.
I'll just aim it so it lands near them.
Make them look up.
You ever seen the expression on a cat's face when it startled?
Well, well, watch.
God, look what you've done.
If I meant to do that.
Maybe the wall wasn't as sheer as it looked.
Maybe there was a concealed angle at its base, which we couldn't see.
Whatever the reason, Malcolm's aim wasn't as true as he thought.
I truly believe that he only intended to startle those cats.
But when he leaned over the wall and threw the stone,
it landed with a sickening third right on the kitten's head
and shattered out his little brains there and then.
The mother cast a swift upward glance,
and I saw her eyes flash like green fire as she stared
for an instant at Malcolm Rivers.
Then her attention was given to the kitten.
After one quiver, it lay still, while a thin red trickle oozed
from a gaping wound.
Oh, the poor thing.
Well, I wouldn't have had this happen for the world.
I can't understand a best darling.
The cat was a situously licking the kitten's wound,
and then suddenly she stopped.
She must have realized that it was dead
and that her administrations were useless.
For all at once, she appeared to lose all interest
in the pathetic little body.
Instead, she looked again at Rivers,
and in that look was all the concentration of primitive hate.
Her green eyes blazed, and the blood which dabbled her mouth
and whiskers made her look for all the world
like an avenging fury.
There, Malcolm, I hope you're satisfied.
That's something for your horror film.
And you have the consolation of knowing it's real blood.
And not vegetable dye.
Oh, don't rub it in.
I feel bad enough with the little one.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, of course you do.
I love cats, I really do.
Although my outburst was a relief,
I felt slightly ashamed.
I realized how painfully vulnerable the man really was.
I turned my attention to the cat.
She was now attempting to claw her way up the wall.
When this failed, she tried to launch herself into the air,
eyes blazing, claws distended,
and then she fell back.
Let's go on.
I can't bear anymore.
Do you want to go home?
We can come back tomorrow.
I think a brandy would do you good.
I think a brandy would do us all good.
No, I don't want to go back to the hotel.
I want to see the castle.
Let's go on.
In face of her obvious determination,
there was nothing else we could do.
At least the tour would divert her mind or so we hoped.
And we also hoped that Malcolm would be
deterred from prattling on about his inane script.
But no.
I'm really expecting to pick up some great vibrations in the torture tower.
It's just over there.
You see, you can't expect to involve your audience
unless you're involved yourself.
Now that's the basic rule.
You've got to be convinced.
And that's why so many movies are just laughable.
Nobody is convinced.
At least to all the makers.
I remember one crazy scene now.
This one killed you.
As Malcolm laughed, I looked back at the cat.
She too had heard.
And her whole demeanor seemed to change.
She no longer tried to jump or run up the wall.
But instead began to lick and fumble the dead kitten
as if it were alive.
Then she took it in her mouth and began to follow us
until we reached the limit of the wall's boundary.
I thought I was the only one who noticed, but I was wrong.
Mr. Ritheres, I know this may sound silly,
but I think that cat means to do you harm.
Oh, now that I laugh.
Oh, let's keep a sense of proportion about this.
Rhyme terribly sorry about what happened,
but I refused to avoid dark alleys over a damn cat.
Besides, she probably has a litter of others under some bush.
Yes, best.
I think you're being melodramatic.
Do you?
Look better.
Are you sure you wouldn't rather call it a day?
If a heavensake stopped fussing,
I said I was all right, didn't I?
Or are you trying to get rid of me?
Oh, no, don't stop that again.
All I was trying to do was to give Mr. Ritheres a perfectly reasonable warning.
I think all I'm afraid.
Well, here's the tower entrance.
Shall we go in?
I tried to sound unconcerned,
but somewhere in the back of my mind,
I had a sneaking feeling
that the girl was probably right.
At first, we could see nothing.
The darkness seemed incarnate,
surrounding, stifling us like a blanket.
The four of us just stood there waiting for the use of our eyes to return.
We were in the lower chamber.
The thin sunlight,
filtering in through a tiny window,
seemed to lose itself in the thickness of the walls,
which were coated with the dust of centuries.
Here and there were patches of dark stain.
Only Ritheres naturally remained comparatively unmoved.
Not much room for cameras down here.
Still, I suppose we could manage.
Excuse me, but you are English?
Yes, well, three of us are.
I think you are English are interested in tortures.
Yes, you are.
You would like to see our collection.
Yes, the best in trouble.
Thank you very much, perhaps you could show us around.
You will have followed me, please.
You are my first part of the day.
The main collection is on the floor above.
I think you will find them interesting.
I remember the wealth of stories about the legendary cruelty of the counts of Sunderberg.
And, of course, their ladies.
It was said that they had found a legitimate outlet for their bloodlust
by channeling them into the service of the officers of the inquisition.
None of your half-measures here.
Wow, look at all that.
We found ourselves in a room full of torture instruments,
chairs full of spikes which gave instant and excruciating pain,
steel cages in which the head could slowly be crushed into a pulp.
Racks, belts, boots, gloves, collars, and all around the world
great Headsman swords, evil, keen-edged weapons
that would decapitate with one slash and nearby blocks
where the victims' necks had lain with deep notches
where the steel had bitten through the guard of flesh and
shored into the wood.
We all found ourselves speechless in the face of this bestial evidence of
man's inhumanity to man.
All that is except Malcolm Rivers.
Believeable, just what we need.
It's too good to be true.
It really is.
You see, it's perfect for a setup just here.
It's a question of getting permission to use this stuff, but
I wonder what the formalities are.
Hey, let me just sit in that chair moment.
Wow.
Rivers was behaving with his usual insensitivity,
but there was something more.
I think the others shared the feeling with me that it was sacrilegious.
An odd word to use, I know, but there was something sacred about the place.
It was a temple, but a temple to Edel.
Now, over here is a madam.
It's a famous instrument of the inquisition.
One might almost say the most famous and still in perfect work and order.
The old man pointed to the main object in this chamber of horrors.
The iron virgin, a copy of the famous one at Nuremberg.
The contraption was covered in rust and dust,
except for the face, which was oddly fresh looking,
as if the custodian had scrubbed it.
While the figure was curved in the shape of a woman,
it was just broad enough for a man to fit inside,
as we could see when the door was opened.
The door itself was enormously thick and was worked open and shut by a thick chain,
running through a pulley attached to a heavy beam in the roof.
When the weight was released, the door would slam shut.
The devilish nature of the iron virgin was truly revealed
when you examined the inside of the door.
A number of iron spikes were fixed there,
and when the victim was placed inside it and the door closed,
the upper spikes would pierce his eyes,
and the lower ones his heart and vital.
What a charming toy.
Oh, God, look at the blood stains.
It's hard to wash out blood completely, man.
And there are some who say this comes back anyway.
I think I can believe this place is haunted.
And on that happy note, I vote to make a hurried exit.
That suits me.
Well, let's go and have that drink.
We promised ourselves, are we right now?
No, no, no, wait.
What's up this time for God's sake?
Hey you, old man, how big is that space?
What's that?
It is the space inside.
I want to see if I can get it.
Oh, I told you.
I like sampling your experiences.
Now Malcolm, realism is one thing.
Non-sense, courage of your convictions and all that.
Now come on, Squire.
I need your help on this.
Very good, sir.
If you insist.
You're not serious.
I'm sure I am.
That's a tight fit.
He lived grown some since those days.
And then I'll manage.
Yeah.
See?
You are not really allowed to do this, sir.
If anyone found out, I might get in for trouble.
Why should anyone find out?
I might even lose my job.
OK, OK, I'll get you a price.
Give him something, will you?
Oh, well, I'll settle with you later.
I think this is all very silly.
All in the cause of heart.
Well, I feel one work going to see his beastly film.
That my dear makes two of us.
Hey, what's all the whispering about?
Oh, here you are.
Two, four, six.
Thank you, sir.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Where do you think that was square, your conscience?
Oh, yes, sir.
I think it's square, very nicely.
Now that you've had your little game, can we all go?
Go, if you like.
I'm not stopping you.
I'm staying here.
Oh, come on.
Now come nothing.
I'm really enjoying this.
Live dangerously.
That's my motto.
Charlie, now I'm passing the door.
But, sir, can't somebody stop me?
Malcolm, you've had your little joke.
But enough is enough.
Enough hell.
You, Charlie, do what I tell you.
Now, start hitting that door down.
But slowly, very, very slowly.
Despite his reluctance, the old man
did as he was told.
He worked the machine with a deliberate and excruciating
slowness in which the outer edge of the door
hadn't moved half five inches in as many minutes.
The whole ridiculous charade had a kind of macabre
thrill about it.
It was a scene from Malcolm's horror film
played exclusively for our benefit.
And then I saw her.
The cat.
I don't think the others noticed it first.
They were too intent on watching the progress of that door.
Even rivers had ceased to chatter.
In the far corner of the chamber,
dark, untamable forces were gathering.
Her green, bailful eyes shone like danger lamps.
And as I peered at her, I could see that their color
was heightened by the blood, which still
smeared her coat and reddened her mouth.
And still, slowly, inexorably, with the precision of an expert,
the old man went on working that door.
Even then, I wasn't sure what the animal intended to do,
or even if she intended to do anything until suddenly.
The cat.
Look out for the cat.
The cat launched herself not at Malcolm,
but at the luckless custodian.
But eyes blazed with ferocity.
Her hair bristle till she seemed twice her normal size.
Her veil lashed out like a tiger's when the quarry
is before it.
The cat's claws found one of his eyes,
and I actually saw her tear through it,
and down his cheek, leaving wide bands of red,
where the blood seemed to spurt from every vein.
Oh, Jack, oh, God!
Look out, because hood is fair.
With a yell of agony and terror, the man
left back, dropping the chain, which held back the door.
It ran like a lightning through the pulley block,
and the massive doors slammed shut!
In the instant before the door had closed,
I saw Malcolm's face.
His eyes stared as if dazed,
and for once in his life he was speechless.
Jack, help me get the door open for God's sake, help me!
I'm coming.
Beth, stay where you are.
For God's sake, don't look.
The end must have been quick,
for when we managed to wrench the door open,
the spikes had done their work.
They had pierced right through the skull,
so that as the door opened, the body came with it,
and he fell to the floor, face turned upwards.
Get your white powder, Pierre.
She needs air.
I'll attend to the old man, right.
The old custodian was leaning against the wooden pillar,
holding his reddening hankage of to his eyes.
While on the face of poor rivers,
there sat the cat,
herring loudly as she licked the blood,
which trickled through the gassed sockets of his eyes.
I pushed her away from her ghoulish meal,
and, well, I hope no one will call me cruel,
because I seized one of the old executioners swords
from its rack on the wall,
and with one slash,
sure herring to on the spot.
Poor Malcolm,
he'd had his total experience,
a good deal more total than he bargained for,
because he wasn't it.
You see what I mean about cats?
You never can tell.
That was Vincent Price, bringing you the price of fear.
Also starring in this story,
Cat's Cradle,
work Kenneth J. Warren,
and Frederick Shrekker,
with John Samson and Bonnie Haron.
Cat's Cradle was first recanted as the score,
by Bram Stecker,
dramatized by Richard Davis,
and produced by John Dyerz.
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Finding great candidates to hire can be like,
well,
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Sure, you can post your job to some job board,
but then all you can do is hope the right person comes along,
which is why you should try Zippercruder for free.
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Zippercruder doesn't depend on candidates finding you.
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It's powerful technology identifies people with the right experience,
and actively invites them to apply to your job.
You get qualified candidates fast.
So, while other companies might deliver a lot of,
hey, zippercruder,
find you what you're looking for.
The needle in the haystack.
See why four out of five employers who post a job on Zippercruder
get a quality candidate within the first day.
Zippercruder, the smartest way to hire,
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Warning, the following Zippercruder radio spot you are about to hear
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