You’ve found the world’s premier horror fiction podcast. Pseudopod brings you the best short horror in audio form, to take with you anywhere.
WARNING: This is a podcast of horror fiction. The stories presented here are intended to disturb you. They are likely to contain death, graphic violence, explicit sex (including sexual violence), hate crimes, blasphemy, or other themes and images that hook deep into your psyche. We do not provide ratings or content warnings for specific stories. We assume by your listening that you wish to be disturbed for your entertainment. If there are any themes that you cannot deal with in fiction, that are too strongly personal to you, please do not listen.
Pseudopod is for mature audiences only. Hardly any story on Pseudopod is suitable for children. We mean this very seriously.
By K.S. Dearsley
Read by Claudia Smith
It was exactly what Marian was looking for–a home of her own, an
address to prove she existed. She looked around feeling someone behind
her. Gareth entered the lounge carrying a packing case. He spoke over
the top of it.
“It’s a bit of a mess.”
The previous tenants had left stained carpets, chipped paintwork and
crayon on the walls.
“Nothing that soapy water and a paintbrush can’t fix.”
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By Grady Hendrix
Read by Nerraux
He’d spent his free period reading up on the Lurker at the Threshold, the All-in-One and the One-in-All, the Opener of the Way, and now he tried to detect the signs of Its presence. But nothing smelt like the stench of the grave. No hideous ichor was seeping out from underneath his bedroom door. The upstairs hall was painted the same robin’s egg blue that it’d always been and it was not suffocating beneath an encrustation of poisonous mold that glowed a deathly, bioluminescent green. He took a deep breath and opened the door to his bedroom. Yog-Sothoth sat at the end of his bed, absorbed in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 4.
“Hey,” Billy said, dropping his book bag.
“Hold on,” Yog-Sothoth said without looking up. “I have almost… accomplished my… Pro Challenge.”
Happy Father’s Day!
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By John F.D. Taff
Read by Kris Johnson
The needle touched skin, vibrated with the small hum of a person in deep concentration.
A smell, electrical, full of ozone with metallic undertones, crackled from everything in the cramped little backroom of the tattoo parlor.
There was a brief moment of contact, full of excitement and anticipation.
Jesse grasped my hand, squeezed it tightly.
Then, the needle broke the skin, punched through.
A dot of color, a bright, iridescent green, lay side by side with a perfectly circular dot of blood that had been coaxed to the surface by the tattooist’s instrument.
Jesse’s skin flinched, relaxed.
The needle approached again, penetrated.
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By Mike Allen
Read by Wilson Fowlie
Willett’s thin, angular face, with the stubble-shrouded cleft in his chin, remains handsome, or would have without the fleshy puckers where his eyes once were. But it’s as if those scars can see, because he turns to you.
You’re finally here, he says. His voice sounds choked with grit.
Do you know where Denise is?
He laughs. It’s a bark tinged with hysteria. Yes. Yes. Lenahan has her. He put us both deep under but he only kept what he wanted from me. Denise, he kept all of her. He planned to all along.
Who’s Lenahan?
Maybe, maybe – and now he’s struggling to speak, as though someone just told him an incredible joke and he’s still gasping for breath — maybe if you ask nice he’ll bring her back. He wanted me to tell you if you asked. He told me to.
Who is he?
And Willett tells you.
This week’s episode sponsored by Audible.com, who offers Pseudopod listeners a free audiobook download of their choice from Audible’s selection of over 60,000 titles.
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By Matthew Piskun
Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy
Rachel comes in the through the garage door in the kitchen. She’s carrying a large green ceramic flower pot. Inside the pot is the weirdest flower I have ever seen. Its stem is thick and curvy like a jungle vine. It’s about seven inches tall and has little white bumps, like tiny blisters, all along the stem. The head of the flower is furry and yellow with large red and black petals, wavy and erect, just the way a kid would draw them. There are several layers of petals and their pattern is mesmerizing: black-red-black-red on one layer, then the next would interchange to red-black-red-black, et cetera. As she carries the flower into the house the petals give the illusion of spinning, like little wheels turning inside larger ones.
I say, “What the hell is that thing?”
“I have no idea, but isn’t it cool?”
“I guess…”
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By David Nickle
Read by Bob Eccles
When Michael was just a kid, Uncle Evan made a movie of Grandfather.
He used an old eight-millimeter camera that wound up with a key and
had three narrow lenses that rotated on a plate. Michael remembered
holding the camera. It was supposedly light-weight for its time, but
in his six-year-old hands, it seemed like it weighed a ton. Uncle Evan
had told him to be careful with it; the camera was a precision
instrument, and it needed to be in good working order if the movie was
going to be of any scientific value.
The movie was of Grandfather doing his flying thing — flapping his
arms with a slow grace as he shut his eyes and turned his long,
beak-ish nose to the sky. Most of the movie was only that: a thin,
middle-aged man, flapping his arms, shutting his eyes, craning his
neck. Grandfather’s apparent foolishness was compounded by the face of
young Michael flashing in front of the lens; blocking the scene, and
waving like an idiot himself. Then the camera moved, and Michael was
gone –
And so was Grandfather..
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By James R. Kristofic
Read by BJ Harrison of The Classic Tales podcast
Hiram knew his father, Jonah, could not refuse the Looking Men on the
night they asked him to help kill William the Reeve.
Jonah had been the first villager of Corfe to speak to the captain of
the Looking Men, the one called Sir Ethan the Red Greaves, after the
Looking Men and their tall war-horses arrived by the main road to
examine the first deaths from the Black Hand. The wandering friar of
Corfe, a red-faced, balding man who had summoned the Looking Men, rode
behind them on a bony mare. The friar had briefly addressed the free
peasants who’d gathered at the mill and promised he would explain all
in the morning after the Looking Men had rested. Hiram knew what
everyone else knew about The Looking Men: they served the Church and
bore scars from the Crusades to the Holy Land. But they were also
knights loyal to their King Henry of England, so they could be
trusted. And the friar promised they had come for the good of Corfe.
But the friar had died that night when the Black Hand had laid itself upon him.
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By Jeremy C. Shipp
Read by George Hrab
My muscles tighten. My teeth clench. My irritable bowel is seriously pissed off.
I’m no good at sitting.
“Hold it together,” my dad tells me. Not physically here, of course, but why would that stop him? Hold it together—that’s easy for him to say. He’s made of steel bars and rivets and bolts. Me, I’m held together with Elmer’s glue and pushpins and chewing gum.
Memories vibrate. They fall and crack open.
Standard Podcast [23:31m]:
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Three flash fiction stories in one gut churning episode.
“Jordan, when are you going to settle down, get married and have us some children?”
By J.R.
Read by Ben Phillips
Beth, my most recent girlfriend, said I look like a hanged man when I walk because I always stare down at my feet.
Thinking About Polar Bears
By Mike Battista
Read by Matt Arnold
I wake up exhausted. I hadn’t slept well. My heart still beats
quickly; the aftermath of vaguely remembered dreams.
Exit Exam, Section III: Survival Skills, Question #7
By David Erik Nelson
Read by Alasdair Stuart
7a) You are a werewolf. You kill and eat people. You are a vicious animal.
Theme music as usual: “Bloodletting on the Kiss” by Anders Manga
Additional music in this episode: rare rendition of “LabRatB” by Harmaline
This week’s episode sponsored by Audible.com, who offers Pseudopod listeners a free audiobook download of their choice from Audible’s selection of over 60,000 titles.
Standard Podcast [30:02m]:
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