This is Horror Award: Fiction Podcast of the Year


We’re honored to accept FOR THE SECOND TIME the This is Horror Award for the Fiction Podcast of the Year category. We would have been perfectly satisfied losing to any of the other folks we graced the shortlist with, and we are humbled by the outcome. Congratulations to all the other winners!

2017 was an amazing year for PseudoPod. We ran three stories by Ramsey Campbell, a master of the short form. We ran a classic from titan editor and writer Karl Edward Wagner which was narrated and sound bed by Anson Mount, who will soon be playing the role of Captain Christopher Pike in the Star Trek Discovery television series. We celebrated Artemis Rising for a third year, and prepared for our fourth year (go check out the five excellent stories we ran in March!) We could gush for hours about all the voices and stories, new and old, that we brought to our listeners. We hope you’ll take the opportunity to take a look at what we did this past year and peek into our back catalog.

We continued celebration our first decade of podcasting weekly short horror fiction, delivering our first anthology, For Mortal Things Unsung, and a sweet tiki mug. Our host and one of our editors participated in the second year of the Eugie Foster Memorial Award for Short Fiction. And there’s so much more! We couldn’t have done this without our tireless staff, including Dagny, Moaner, Karen, Graeme, Chelsea, Marty, Brian, Shawna, Tad, Scott, Cecilia, Cliff, Britany, Adrian, Kim, Austin, Erin, Otter, Jesse, and Victoria. We look forward to what else 2018 will bring!

PseudoPod 590: Emperor All


Emperor All

By Evan Marcroft


It is like X-ray vision. Like in the comic books from when he was ten. John blinks the rain out of his eyes, and suddenly he can see through the mugger, through his shellacking of wet muscle and scaffolding of bone to the chassis beneath, to the gears and flywheels that make him move and point the knife at him. John reaches through a yielding mist of sinew and makes key refurbishments, so that the knife is aimed at the mugger’s own throat. He unscrews the man’s skull and with an easy tinkering makes him the saddest he’s ever been, plugs bright blaring red thoughts into his head.

A moment later he steps over the body and splashes across the parking lot, trembling giddily. He can’t remember where he left his car, and the city is dark. Instead he auditions the cars lined up on either side of him until he finds one that is better than his own, and makes it his.

It is unlocked when he tries the handle, and when it snarls to life (with just his touch) his favorite song is playing on the radio. The traffic lights are all green on the drive home. The police are all at other crimes as the speedometer needle roars past sixty. (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 589: Flash On The Borderlands XLII: Misanthropes

Show Notes

People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone


Sam Gorenstein: “I’d like to dedicate ‘Edgar’ to my late uncle Conan Gorenstein, who passed away in 2013.”


A Bar Story

by Melissa Snark


The gangly youth scurried on long legs and over-sized feet. He stumbled on a cracked tile, but righted himself. Shoulders squared, Daniel Hollar ran a hand through his long orange hair, finger combing the frizzy mess. Hundreds of freckles peppered his pale face, and his green eyes were bright behind wire-rimmed glasses.

He slapped on a polite smile for the middle-aged man crouched on a stool at the end of the L-shaped bar. The customer’s arms rested on the counter, the diamond frame forming a protective barrier about the shot glass cradled between his hands. Sweat bullets lined the customer’s blotchy red forehead. A scraggly crown of damp hair stuck to the collar of his white dress shirt. His gut overhung belted dark trousers. He wore a clean gold band on his left ring finger and his clothing was made from fine fabric.

“Evenin’, sir. What’s your poison?” (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 588: ARTEMIS RISING 4: The Good Mothers’ Home for Wayward Girls

Show Notes

This is Izzy’s first professional sale.

“While writing this story, I was thinking a lot about how many of the worst things we do to one another are done out of a desire to protect and keep safe, and how little surety we have that change will bring about improvement.”


The Good Mothers’ Home for Wayward Girls

by Izzy Wasserstein


One of the Mothers shoves the new girl into the dorm room, the slick threads of the Mother’s grasp lingering long enough that several of us shiver. The new girl wears a short dress, shot through with sunset, though we are not sure we remember sunsets properly. The hem of the dress is ragged and mud-caked. It is the most beautiful thing we have ever seen. We hate the new girl.

Get her into uniform, the Mother commands. It makes no sound, but its words echo between our ears. The new girl has been standing with her hands on opposite shoulders, her chin jutting forward. That changes when we surround her. We rip the dress from her shoulders and toss a gray shift over her body. Now she is dressed just as we are.

The Mother squelches out of the room, and the door slams shut behind it. (Continue Reading…)