account of the mermaid. We've combined elements of several stories and legends about this aquatic maiden for dramatic effect. Mm Colin Macintyre stood at the railing of the small fishing vessel, staring at the distant Scottish cliffs on the horizon. He'd been at sea for six months, trailing the shimmering schools of Atlantic Fish. It had been a good season. The deck was littered with bushels of pike, salmon, oysters and clams, but Colin was ready for home. His heart longed for a glimpse of his seaside village on the isle of Skye and the feeling of firm soil beneath his feet. A nearby sound drew Collins gaze down to the frothing sea just in time to see a sleek, shimmery tail dip beneath the waves. A giant tuna, judging by the size. He was about to shout to the crew when it breached again. But it wasn't tuna or even a seal. It was a beautiful woman, nude and frolicking in the waves, Colin wiped the salt from his eyes, but she was still there. She seemed to beckon him before diving once more. Yeah, Colin had not even a moment to consider this strange encounter when a more immediate concern reared its head from out of the east, an enormous bank of clouds began to form. They seemed to swallow the sun itself. The crew raced about the deck, lowering the sale, battening the hatches and preparing for the ferocious typhoon. Collins slopped the caught fish from the four castle and down into the hold below. But then a sailor's voice cried from on high rogue wave, A wave towered over the ship higher than the mainsail mast. Colin had just re emerged from the hold when it hit, the mizzen snapped and swung toward him, carrying him over the railing. In an instant Collins world became a rage of white foam, icy cold, and splintered wood. He flailed desperately in the water, but had no way of knowing which way was up. A plank of driftwood struck his side and he gasped in pain, sucking in salt water. His flailing arms slowed. His vision darkened. A flash of distant lightning lit the ocean with an eerie glow. Collins eyes widened. The woman he had seen from the ship was swimming toward him, her fishy thin tail undulating like that of a purpose. He was too stunned to resist as she placed the hand on either side of his face. Then she pressed her lips to his and his lungs filled with air. Mhm. Yeah, Yeah. Welcome to mythical monsters apart. Cast original. I'm Vanessa Richardson. Every week we dive into history's most legendary monsters in telling the stories of their origins. We hope to shed light on some truths hidden behind the creations of these beasts, where they come from, what they symbolize and how they expose some of humanity's greatest fears. You can find episodes of mythical monsters and all other podcast originals for free on Spotify or wherever you listen to podcasts to stream mythical monsters for free on Spotify, just open the app and type mythical monsters in the search bar at podcast. We're grateful for you, our listeners. You allow us to do what we love. Let us know how we're doing, reach out on facebook and instagram at podcast and twitter at podcast network. Today we're discussing the mermaid. This inquisitive creature is most often depicted as a bare chested woman with the lower body of a fish. She lures sailors, causes storms and can even transform into a human. Without a doubt, the mermaid is one of the most ubiquitous mythical creatures, saturating practically every continent and culture today. The image of her pissing body graces the logo of the Starbucks coffee cup, while the bronze mermaid statue in the Copenhagen surf is one of the most photographed images in all of Denmark. For centuries, mermaids have appeared in virtually every art form from sculpture, paintings and poetry to modern cinema. Because of the mermaids association with the untamable see. Women throughout history have adopted her image as a defiant symbol of female rebellion. The first documented mermaid like figure is nearly four millennia old appearing around 1800 B. C. E. The ancient Babylonian god. Oh ANne's had the upper body of a man and the lower body of a fish and was an emissary of area, the god of water. According to the cal deon priest Cirrhosis. Oh ANne's arose from the Red Sea, bringing with him the hallmarks of civilization, he taught the early peoples the rules of architecture, law, order and language. A mere 800 years later, a female goddess with similar characteristics emerged. In a Syria, her name was a target tous, and like Oh, Anne's, she had the lower body of a fish. Today. She's remembered as the world's first mermaid long ago. In the city of Asir, in what is now present day Syria, a queen ruled over her people with a measured hand and utmost grace. A target. This was the final word on all disputes. She was beloved amongst the assyrians. Every morning they would all stand on their doorsteps and shout her name. The sound washed over the city like a tsunami. It would reach the palace and wake the queen from her sleep. And in the evening she looked out from her balcony and saw a sea of lanterns, each one a tiny flame lit to honor her through the darkest night, but a target. This was lonely despite the profound respect her subjects felt for her. She longed for a true partner. One day the queen was riding along a nearby river when she spotted a shepherd bathing in the water. His back rippled with muscle. His face was strong and proud. The shepherds name was Haddad, and even from this distance a target. This had fallen in love. A target is, and Haddad quickly married and threw a feast to last 1000 and one nights. Every wine from the sellers was emptied, every food was on offer. Revelry and rebelled laughter consumed a sir. But it was in the midst of this celebration that tragedy befell a target. This Haddad was drunk and enjoying the attention of his guests. In an effort to impress his wife subjects. He began leaping over a herd of bulls that had been presented as a wedding gift. Each time he cleared the deadly horns, he took another sip from the heavy flagon of wine. A target is goaded her lover on his acts of bravery, quickening her heart, clapping her hands, shouting with glee, she begged her dad to leap once more. Haddad turned and bowed, a smile aimed at his perfect consort, but the wine dulled his mind, and the bull's horns were sharp. A scream of agony erupted from a target is breast, but it was too late. Her husband fell limp, his intestines torn from his stomach by the creatures horns. He had been gored straight through by his own wedding cattle. The occasion, transformed from feast to funeral as a temple, was erected in Haddad's honor. But no matter how many supplications were offered, how many oils were anointed for her former partner? A target is found no peace instead of the lanterns. The night was filled with darkness, while once her name had echoed over the city each morning. Now the only sound was her baleful whales of sorrow. One night she set out on horseback to see the place where she had first spotted Haddad. She waited in the water until it was up to her knees. Then her waist deeper. She went until only her head was above the dark churn of river water. With one final breath she whispered Haddad's name and sank below, ready to meet him on the other side. But as the inky darkness consumed a target, this something unexpected happened. Below the water, her legs began to change. Her skin became the glistening scales of a fish. Her feet became fins. She found that she could breathe as easily as if she were on land. The gods had not permitted her to die. She had become the first mermaid. Anna closed the worn book of old Tales and looked down at her son, saying, that's enough stories for tonight, my love. Their one room seaside cottage crackled with warm light from the hearth. Anna's son Sam was already nestled deep beneath the covers of his small cot in the corner, but he scowled at his mother's words. He wanted another story, but he settled for a question. Are mermaids real mom? Anna smiled down at her son. She was about to respond when a gruff laugh filled the cottage. Mhm. Angus Macintyre stumbled through the door, reeking of whiskey, he belched and laughed again. Of course, mermaids are real data child. My old granddad saw one himself once rescued him from drowning in the midst of a storm. Sam's eyes widened and he asked his father if this was true. Angus sniffed indignantly. Of course it's true. Are you calling my granddad a liar? He also saw Red Cap the next year and the year after that he caught a mad ferry and stole her gold. It's thanks to him. We live in this marvelous palace. Angus laughed and belched and scratched his stomach, then threw himself into bed without bothering to remove his mud caked shoes. Anna scowled at her husband. Then she kissed her son's forehead and went to join him. Story time was over. Mhm. But Sam couldn't sleep. He lay awake, his mind dancing with images of a target, this and the other. More people who populated his mother's stories. He imagined the underwater kingdom where they were said to live in perfect harmony. There were pictures of it in her Book of Old tales. The crystal spires and sea shells leapt from the page, and every scale on the tail of every illustrated mermaid danced in the firelight. He wanted so badly to see them again, but his mother had taken the book away, it rested on the bed stand a few inches from his sleeping father. Sam crawled out of bed as silently as he could manage. He crept across the floor, sneaking up to the larger bed where his parents slept. Even in sleep. His mother anna glowed with beauty and love. Sam had heard other men wonder how Angus Macintyre had come to win the likes of her with his doughy skin, thinning hair and penchant for drink. He was snoring loudly and the stench of whiskey and bile filled sam's nostrils. He had to clap his hand over his nose and mouth just to stop himself from gagging. Sam's gaze traveled to the brass key nestled in his father's chest hair. Angus wore the key on a bit of twine around his neck and had never taken it off. Sam knew that it opened the trunk under the bed. The last time he tried to open it, he'd received the worst beating of his life. The thought of his father's belt reminded Sam that he'd best be getting on with it. He reached for the storybook, but another hand got there first. Angus, bloodshot eyes bore into his own. The man snarled at Sam, get back to bed brat. Then he blew out the lantern, plunging the room into blackness. Coming up, Sam uncovers a troubling family secret. This episode is brought to you by three M three has always been driven to improve lives with science and innovation. It's this forward thinking mindset that led three to invent household items. You've come to know and love like post it notes and command hooks, But three believes they have a responsibility to use their science to improve lives in even more ways. That's why they're responding to the COVID-19 crisis. By working on solutions for some of today's biggest challenges. As a leading provider of personal protective equipment. three M is producing critical products for health care workers and first responders and donating to local and humanitarian aid partners around the globe. They're also making more respirators than ever before with plants working around the clock, producing more than 95 million respirators per month in the U. S. Helping those in the front lines continue the fight. Three M. Science applied to life, learn more about how three M. Is helping the world respond to the Covid 19 pandemic at three a.m. Dot com slash Covid. Mm hmm. This episode is brought to you by HP Whenever you do your best thinking. The HP Spectre X360 is ready when inspiration strikes with power, safer battery life and focus mode to multitask. You can do your best thinking whenever and wherever it happens, you can't always schedule when and where you might have a brilliant thought, whether it's in the morning or before bed when you're at your computer or away from it, thinking can happen anywhere and anytime. The HP Spectre X 3 62 and one convertible Pc with Windows 10 say it's battery life or whenever an idea hits you. Hp Spectre X 3 60. A more thoughtful laptop. Mm mm Now, back to the story. Mhm. The world's first mermaid was the Assyrian Goddess, a target this worshipped around 1000 BCE. She was said to have become so overcome with grief after the death of her husband that she tried to drown herself. But the sea saved her changing her legs into the tail and fins of a fish a target. This was the goddess of the moon and fertility and one of the most significant female deities in northern Syria. Her myth established a connection between femininity, emotion and water that continued for centuries. Around the same period, images of fish women began to appear in artwork and buildings throughout Mesopotamia. They were considered a petro paic images intended to bring good luck and ward off evil intentions, but these pissing maidens would not remain benevolent for long. Nearly 200 years later, in ancient Greece, Homer's odyssey introduced the world to the siren. Originally depicted as women with the features of birds. They would become the forerunners for the western mermaid myths, the sirens lived on a remote island and each day would stand on the rocky cliffs, singing into the wind and waves. Any men who sailed close enough to hear their enchanting voices were compelled to steer for the island where they would wreck against the craggy shoals and drown. Mhm. For the Greeks, the sirens were more than just a story. They represented the very real threat of shipwreck, particularly around specific islands of the Aegean Sea By personifying this threat as beautiful female monsters. The Greeks had once again tied the C2 concepts of femininity. Only this time they were connecting its dangers to the seduction of a deceitful temptress. Mm hmm. By the middle ages, mermaids have become a common fixture in the folklore of seafaring communities across western europe in Britain and Ireland they were regarded as both almonds and causes of bad weather in art and stories. They were depicted as mischievous carefree creatures who would use their wiles to lure sailors off course. Sometimes the mermaids wiles would even extend beyond the waves. Stories from as far flung as Scotland, Ireland Iceland India and Africa tell of mermaids trading their tail for human legs to walk on land. Some even settled on land taking human husbands, but their hearts were never far from the turbulent sea. Anna poured too hot mugs of black tea and spoon some fresh honey comb into each as she delivered one to Sam. She smiled and said. Our little secret Sam was in bed again, his eyes glistening. He carefully removed the worn book of old tales from under his straw stuffed pillow. Tonight, however, anna simply placed the book on the floor next to the chair. She did not need a book to tell this story. Many years ago there was a fisherman who had been drinking at the local pub for hours when he called for another round of the house Brown. The bartender took one sniff of his breath and snatched his glass away. He said, I'm sorry, lad, that's your last drink of the evening. But ornery could have been the fisherman's middle name in a fit of impish delight. He rested the bottle of scotch from the bartender's hand and fled from the pub with the bartender, only a breath behind him. The fishermen dove through a high hedgerow, doubled around the back of the building and finally lost the tail. A short time later the unfathomably inebriated fisherman sat on a low slung stonewall and finished the rest of that scotch, his eyes swimming. He looked up and saw three moons. It was a cold night, but the liquor was better than any fire, he thought it might be nice to take a midnight dip. He wandered down the lane, stripping off his clothes as he went. By the time he reached the shore he was stark nude, but as he girded himself for that profoundly cold shock of Scottish ocean. He was startled by loud voices. Somewhere nearby, in a small cove on the beach a group of beautiful women cavorted their skirts shimmering as if made from the seawater itself. The fishermen hid behind a dune, watching as they twirled and twisted in the frigid air. Maybe it was his head full of whiskey, or maybe it was their ballistic grace, so ethereal and perfect, but the fisherman was in love. Emboldened, he approached the group of women, but when they saw the lumbering nude men they peeled off, running straight back into the ocean. One by one they were swallowed by the darkness as full as it had been just seconds ago. The cove was now empty, but the fishermen was distracted, grabbing what he thought was one of their abandoned shawls. He giddily ran away into the night with it and then collapsed into darkness. The next morning the fishermen woke to an oppressive hangover and urgent knocking at the door. He eventually dragged himself out of bed, shrieking at whoever it was to let him get his trousers on. After last night's shenanigans. He fully expected it to be the local authorities. Coming, coming, the fishermen bellowed, but as he approached the door, he noticed the shawl he'd taken from the beach. It glistened with an unnatural shine and when he picked it up he found that it was surprisingly heavy, thick and rubbery. It wasn't a shawl at all, but some kind of skin, confused but intrigued. The fishermen tossed it into a chest and locked it tight, propping himself against the jamb. The fishermen finally pressed open the door. Standing outside, was not the policemen he expected, but one of the gorgeous women from the beach. Her immaculate beauty shocked him sober, cocking her head, she scanned the fishermen's face. Finally she spoke a single question. Where is my skin? The fisherman was about to laugh in her face and sent her away when a memory penetrated the dull pounding of his hangover. He remembered sitting at his grandfather's heart as a boy, listening to tales about women who lived beneath the waves, mermaids who shed their skin to dance and cavort on shore in the moonlight. A mischievous smile spread across the fisherman's features. He knew at last what he'd found on the shore then, as if it were yesterday. He spoke the words from his grandfather's tail. If I do have your sacred skin, then any wish I want, I do win! The woman's eyes flashed with fury for a moment. Then her chin dropped in defeat. She muttered in a barely audible voice, like the wind on a lonely beach. Tis true, sir. The fisherman's guests had been correct. He had found the mermaid skin as long as he kept it. She could not return to the sea. Soon the two were wed, and though everyone in town was mystified that the drunken fishermen had found such a beautiful and enchanting wife, none suspected the truth. Soon she gave birth to a child, and in time no one remembered or cared that she had not lived in that town all her life so ends the tale of the mermaid Wife. Sam scowled up at his mother, eyes wide with distress. But that's not the end, is it, mom? He stammered. Didn't the mermaid ever get to see her family again, straightening up, pushing the sadness off her face. Anna scratched Sam's back and said thoughtfully, No, she did not see them again. But every full moon she went down to the cove and stared out at the sea. She would gather seashells and whisper into them because she was a mermaid. Her voice would stay in there forever. Then the tide would carry the shells away, taking the messages back to her family so they would know that she was safe and happy. Sam scowl deepened. He demanded to know how she could be happy when she was a prisoner. Anna smiled as she answered. Don't forget that she had a child who she loved very much so much that even if she could get her skin back she would not return to the sea. Sam still wasn't satisfied. But he had caught the sad, distant look in his mother's eye. He worried that his questions had upset her. After tucking him in, she sealed his good night with a kiss on the forehead, then blew out the light. Sam woke to the sound of the door creaking open. He tensed immediately, expecting to see his father's lumbering form appear, but when he cracked an island, he spotted his mother silhouette slipping out the door into the night. The door shut a moment later, plunging Sam into blackness again, he bit his lip thoughtfully. Then he clambered out of bed, pulled on his shoes, and scampered after his mother. Sam followed his mother's footprints down the narrow causeway that led to the churning sea. He threaded between see strewn boulders and thick ropes of seaweed. At last he saw her standing at the water's edge. She stared out at the distance as the wind whipped her hair and shawl. Then she stooped to pick up a large cod shell. She lifted it to her lips and whispered something, then placed it back on the wet sand. Sam's eyes widened with astonishment, just like in the story, He thought to himself. Then his mother started to turn. Sam dove back behind a dune, panting heavily. He didn't think she'd seen him, but he couldn't be sure. Keeping low. He raced back up the causeway toward his family's cottage. Coming up. Sam risks everything to free his mother. Do you have a secret you take to the grave. If you do, you're not alone. Everyone has skeletons in their closet, but some people's secrets are bigger than others. I'm Stephanie, a Hageman host of podcasts, newest show. Deathbed confessions. Each week we dive deep into the most explosive things People have admitted to while drawing their last breath from murder, fake identities. Heists, illicit affairs and even government cover ups. Deathbed confessions is a Spotify original from podcast, airing episodes weekly, starting july 21st, follow and listen to deathbed confessions for free on Spotify. Mm Now back to the story. Since rising from a 4000 year old Assyrian myth, the mermaid has gone on to become a popular figure in the folklore of civilizations and cultures around the globe variants include the freshwater nick, see from Germany, the part seal sulky of Scotland and the african mermaid wife, mom Iwata. In the mermaids. Many guises, it can live in brackish or freshwater in seas or rivers in lakes and even through magic on land itself. For every civilization and type of aquatic feature available, there is a mermaid to match. While the modern western version of the creature has its roots in homer's sirens, it was heavily influenced by the european folk tale melas seen in most versions of the tale, melas scene was a half fish half female maiden who removed her fish tail to marry a nobleman. When the nobleman denied her privacy to bathe in sacred water. Once a week, she transformed back into a fish and wriggled away forever. During the 19th century, the German romantic author Friedrich Heinrich Carl de LaMotte drew on the story of Melanin while writing his short story Lundin, which was later adapted into a famed opera of the same name by E. T. A. Hoffmann. The title character Lundin is a water nif who marries a night in order to gain a human soul. But of all the mermaid stories that defined the creature for the modern age, the most famous was Hans Christian Andersen's 1837 tail. The little mermaid. It's vastly different and far more vicious than the story made famous by Disney roughly 100 and 50 years later. For instance, after the little mermaid gains legs with every step she takes. It feels as if she's stomping on knives and rather than a happy ending, it concludes with the mermaid throwing herself into the ocean and bursting into sea foam. Not every mermaid gets a happy ending. Sam shut the door behind him and froze. His father Angus was asleep in the chair beside the fireplace. Sam shivered, hoping that the fact that his father hadn't awoken at the sound of the door was because he was dead drunk. Sam steeled himself and approached the chair, slowly skirting around the arm to appraise His father angus belly was swollen from the pubs latest libations, his mouth hung slack, the teeth like crooked gravestones. His snore smelled of poison. The thought of awakening his father's wrath terrified Sam, but he had to know the truth. With surgical precision, he threaded his fingers under the necklace his father always wore. Slowly carefully. He began to pull it up, careful not to let the dangling key snag inch by inch. He lifted the chain up past the unruly bearded chin, past the nose and then the eyes which were wide open and staring into his own. Then angus is snore echoed through the cottage Once again Sam breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he'd managed not to soil himself, trying not to trigger the creaking floorboards beneath. Sam slowly dragged the forbidden trunk from under the bed. Every inch it moved. Sam would turn to check on his snoring father. Finally, Sam slid the key into the lock. It squealed under protest as he turned it. Finally, a soft click inside the trunk was a strange cloak. Sam ran his small hands along the oily scaly material. It shifted and quivered, dancing with ripples of lights like liquid mercury. It was a mermaid skin. Sam's eyes widened as he realized the truth. All of his mother's marvelous stories had been about her, his father had stolen her skin and had forced her to marry him. She was his prisoner, and Sam was going to set her free. But before he could consider the matter further, he was interrupted by a ghastly howl. He spun around to find his father staring right at him. His bloodshot eyes flashed with murderous intent as he studied himself on the arm of the chair, he whispered, You have found my secret Sam, but I will not free your mother. She belongs to me. Angus lunged and Sam dove darting to the left. He narrowly swung clear of his father's outstretched arms and scrambled for the door. Sam burst from the back door of the house, legs flinging him down the path. The skin was heavy and unwieldy, but he couldn't leave it behind. He just had to get the skin to his mother and then everything would be all right. Seconds later Angus practically ripped the hinges off the back door as he stormed out. A juggernaut of madness, he spotted Sam disappearing around the fence and roared. Sam raced through the short field and scrambled onto the lip of the dirt causeway leading down to the sea. It was steep and full of loose rocks, but Sam didn't have time to choose his foothold. He could hear angus closing on him from behind, snarling and howling like a wolf. He glanced back to see how close he was. As he looked, Sam's left foot caught against a large rock, he fell, twisting and heard the snap as he hit the ground, His leg bent into an unnatural position, seeming to defy Anatomy as it angled backwards. As Sam stared down at his shattered leg. Terrible pain colored his vision. A figure loomed over him, anna crouched beside her son, face ashen with worry. She had heard her husband's furious cries and had come running to see what was the matter she had seen. Sam fall had felt her heart in her throat when his leg snapped. She held the shell shocked boy in her arms. Then she noticed what he was holding and her eyes widened. The smell of ocean brine, seaweed, perfumes and manatee spume hit her nostrils. It was the skin. Anna heard angus holler again. Not far away. He hadn't seen them yet, but he would. Without hesitating, she lifted Sam into her arms, pulled the skin over her shoulders and raced for the water in the skin. Sam felt warm and in his mother's arms. Sam felt safe even if his leg hung below him useless. He wondered if he would ever walk again at the shore's edge. Anna set Sam down on the wet sand. She heard Angus horse voice angry and close. He had seen them, but anna calmly unfolded the skin and draped it around her. And Sam at first Sam felt extreme warmth through his legs. He knew the break was awful. Angus voice so loud and close suddenly sounded far away. Sam looked into Anna's eyes, worried. She told him, relax, my child! Soon we will be away. Sam felt the ocean spray on his face, looking around him in a panic. He saw anna beside him smiling. She took his small hand and pulled him out into the water. Sam had never been this far out before when Angus became but a speck on the shoreline. Anna finally let go of her son. Sam screamed as her hand left his. Then he kicked his legs reflexively expecting a searing pain from the broken one. Instead, Sam's lower half moved with utter ease through the water, flipping on his back. He looked down at his lower body. His legs had been replaced with a slick finned tail. His mother twirled by a giggle, bursting from her lips. That's right, my love. You won't need legs where we're going. And with that Ana grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him underwater. After a few tentative attempts, Sam realized he indeed could breathe underwater, flapping his powerful tail. He followed anna through coral canyons over dark riffs of unfathomable depth and to a translucent castle under the sea. Sam's eyes widened at the crystal spires and towers of shells as they swam toward the gates, countless mermaids and merman came to greet them. Their scales shimmering like 1000 jewels. Anna and Sam were finally home. Mhm. Throughout history and across cultures, the mythical figure of the mermaid has been used to explore fear of the sea, along with issues of femininity. Often she's an oppressed or tragic figure as the Assyrian goddess, a target. This she represented the immeasurable depth and tumultuous emotion of a widow's grief as a siren and sailors, omen, she represented the allure and danger of exploration on the high seas. The Scottish tale of the mermaid. Wife discusses the chains of domesticity. The mermaids inability to return to her natural home without her skin, represents a woman caged by the demands of a family she never wanted. In the end, she breaks free of her expectations and demands escaping from the control of her unloving husband and returning to the tumultuous, untamed ocean for which her heart has always yearned. The mermaid continues to be a ubiquitous figure today, whether as a bubbly Disney princess, or as a pissing maiden hawking coffee from every street corner. Even as late as 2017, the Oscar winning feature film, the shape of water offered a contemporary reimagining of the mermaid myth, with the tale of a mute woman finding her voice through the love of a water bound creature. But no matter how alien or untamed, the mermaid reflects back the elements that make us most human. The desire to explore a new world, the allure of the siren song, the fear of being lost to the deaths whether of the darkest oceans or our darkest emotions. As long as the sea is a place of unparalleled danger, mystery and beauty. The mermaid will continue to haunt the waters of our collective unconscious. Mhm mm. Yeah. Mhm. Thanks for listening to mythical monsters will be back next week with a new episode. You can find all episodes of mythical monsters and all other podcast. Originals for free on Spotify. Not only does Spotify already have all of your favorite music, but now Spotify is making it easy for you to enjoy all of your favorite podcast. Originals like mythical monsters for free from your phone, desktop or smart speaker to stream mythical monsters on Spotify. Just open the app and type mythical monsters in the search bar. And don't forget to follow us on facebook and instagram at podcast and twitter at podcast network. I'll see you next time.