Archive for Podcasts

Pseudopod 017: Upon The Midnight Clear

Show Notes

Music provided by the HP Lovecraft Historical Society


Upon The Midnight Clear

By Stephen Dedman


She was mercifully quiet for a while, as though thinking of something to say. “Must be difficult, though, travelling on your own. Dangerous, even.”

I laughed, probably for the first time since the plane landed. I’d heard that too often before, too. “Dangerous? This place?” She looked and sounded sincere enough, though it was hard to be sure with that make-up and accent. “I teach jeet kune do and self-defence. The scariest thing I’ve seen since I got here was Phantom of the Opera. I admit, I didn’t actually plan to be making this trip alone, but my fiance dumped me in November, and I was stuck with the ticket. I’m enjoying it more than I expected. So, what have you got around here that’s dangerous? Serial killers? Or just drunks?”

She was silent for a moment. “Are you superstitious?”

I laughed. “I’m not even Californian.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“No.”

Pseudopod 016: Medicinal


By Peter King

Read by Ben Phillips and Mur Lafferty

When this first started I would scream or panic or even go for the window. The only thing I can do now is whisper.

To her. To me.

“That’s not the guy, Lorainne,” I say under my breath, but it does me no good because the thoughts keep coming.

–transverse cervical–

“Besides, you’re dead, Lorainne. And I’ll never find him. That guy over there… that’s not the guy.”

It does no good, because my head still goes all swimmy. Whatever is trapped up there… it can wait no more.
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Pseudopod 015: Regis St. George


By Maria Deira

Read by Mur Lafferty

“Lisa, Lisa, Lisa. Regis St. George hell,” he moaned.

“Yeah, I sent you to hell,” I said.

“Why, please, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa?” He looked at me, his crooked fingers pulling at his hair. I almost felt sorry for the little bastard.

Almost.

“Because that’s where you belong.”

“Lisa, Lisa, Lisa. Deal. Regis St. George. Deal. Hell not deal,” he said, shaking his head.

“First of all, you ate my cat,” I said.

Regis St. George grinned at me, baring a mouth full of sharp, little teeth.

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Pseudopod 014: Virginia Woods


Virginia Woods

by Janni Lee Simner


The wind brushed her cheek — had it ever stopped? It whistled through the leaves, high and sharp, crying like an animal in pain.

No, not an animal. Ice trickled down Eleanor’s spine. A child. Her child.

“Virginia?” The wind continued to cry. “Virginia, where are you?” Eleanor started forward, in the direction of the voice, then stopped when she felt herself trembling. Would she really find her daughter? Or just another mangled body, nothing human left to it?