Archive for Stories

Pseudopod 032: Stitching Time


Stitching Time

By Stephanie Burgis


Some women talk to angels during their winters alone in the farmhouse. Others dance with devils, their wildest nightmares come true. When their husbands come back into the house for supper, they find their sweet, submissive brides speaking in tongues, mouthing obscenities in deep masculine voices. It takes months with Dr. Grace before these women come back to themselves, months of treatment with a starvation diet, months of bible readings and flagellation.

My friend Ellen was one of those women. We’d heard all the stories when we first arrived in the blazing heat of July, travelling together from Boston. During those
welcoming parties, when all the farming families met together and the children played around our feet, older women took us aside.

The winters are long, they whispered to us; watch out. Don’t let your imagination run away from you. Don’t let your husband see, if it does.

They whispered the name of Dr. Grace.

Pseudopod 031: Last Respects


Last Respects

by Dave Thompson


But they were only stories. No one lived forever, certainly not us.

I’ve read stories about the sorrows immortals suffered because of how much they had seen over their long lives. What rubbish. I would trade my mortality for their immortality in a heartbeat if it meant another day with Catherine.

A scream rang out from downstairs. I smiled when I heard applause, my grandchildren now being praised by their mother as the scream faded to a whimper and the giggles were replaced by slurping sounds.

Pseudopod 030: Seller’s Market


By Joel Arnold

Read by Matthew Wayne Selznick

“You were lucky,” I say, testing her. “To find a place so easily with this guy, even in this current housing market.”

Ellen nods again. I try to get her to look at me, but she won’t.

“He just showed you this house. Said it’s yours if you want it?”

Ellen yawns. “I’m tired,” she says. “I had a busy day.”

“Sounds like it.”

Then she snaps. “Look, what are you trying to imply?” Her eyes flash. “I got the house fair and square. It’s a nice house, and now you’re accusing me — ” She stops.

“Accusing you of what?” I ask.

Her eyes smolder. My heart races.

“You should thank me,” she says.

I leave the room.

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Pseudopod 029: Light Like Knives Dragged Across the Skin


By Paul Jessup

Read by Ben Phillips

Saw grinned. “Well, come on chicken shits, let’s keep the game going. We can’t call it quits now, we are all defined by our cards in play. So smack that shit down and let’s get going.”

Saw got off on the whole thing, that much I could tell. He probably had a thick inch of wood under the table. He was in love with power, with making people do what he wanted. And now he wanted one of us to die. I guess that’s just how it goes.