http://pseudopod.org The Sound of Horror. Pseudopod is the world\'s first audio horror magazine. We deliver bone-chilling stories from today\'s most talented authors straight to your computer or MP3 player. Tue, 31 Aug 2010 20:27:17 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.5.1 en ©Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart editor@pseudopod.org (Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart) editor@pseudopod.org(Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart) horror fiction 1440 horror, short stories, stories, storytelling, scary, horror stories, fiction The Sound of Horror The Sound of Horror. Pseudopod is the world\'s first audio horror magazine. We deliver bone-chilling stories from today\'s most talented authors straight to your computer or MP3 player. Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart editor@pseudopod.org No yes http://pseudopod.org/images/250x250.jpg http://pseudopod.org 144 144 http://pseudopod.org/2010/08/18/hiatus-for-aug-sept-2010/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/08/18/hiatus-for-aug-sept-2010/#comments Wed, 18 Aug 2010 06:47:25 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=293 http://pseudopod.org/2010/08/18/hiatus-for-aug-sept-2010/feed/ 0:33 Pseudopod is on hiatus until October 2010. In the meantime, dig through the archives or try these other fine, free, wonderfully bent audio fiction ... Pseudopod is on hiatus until October 2010. In the meantime, dig through the archives or try these other fine, free, wonderfully bent audio fiction publishers: Drabblecast Transmissions From Beyond The Classic Tales Frequency of Fear October Country Radio Scott Sigler and Cast Macabre, who made a nice timely promo and everything: Meta Ben Phillips Alasdair Stuart no No http://pseudopod.org/support/ http://pseudopod.org/support/#comments Mon, 02 Feb 2009 07:36:17 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?page_id=194 http://pseudopod.org/support/feed/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/19/pseudopod-186-ankor-sabat/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/19/pseudopod-186-ankor-sabat/#comments Fri, 19 Mar 2010 05:01:40 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=269 http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/19/pseudopod-186-ankor-sabat/feed/ 31:00 By C. Deskin Rink Read by Ben Phillips But less than a year later, when Lord Galen returned home from a hunting trip, he discovered four of ... By C. Deskin Rink Read by Ben Phillips But less than a year later, when Lord Galen returned home from a hunting trip, he discovered four of his guards torn limb-from-limb, his bedroom window broken in from the outside, monstrous claw marks on the second floor balcony and, of his beloved, no trace. Most disturbing of all was what he beheld graven into the wall above her bed: a monstrous blue sigil in the form of a six-lobed eye. No earthly implement could have rendered the perfectly aligned delineations of that unmentionable shape; nor could any earthly ink have provided its hateful color which glimmered balefully even in total darkness. Terrible was Lord Galenrsquo;s grief, but even more terrible was the thing which grew by degrees within him: his wrath. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction C. Deskin Rink no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/30/pseudopod-205-gulls/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/30/pseudopod-205-gulls/#comments Fri, 30 Jul 2010 05:01:21 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=292 http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/30/pseudopod-205-gulls/feed/ 20:54 By Tim Pratt Read by Tina Connolly A high fence of weathered wood ran along the right side, partitioning the beach for the people in the hotel. ... By Tim Pratt Read by Tina Connolly A high fence of weathered wood ran along the right side, partitioning the beach for the people in the hotel. The fence ran for a distance even into the water before giving up hope of division. Harriet heard happy shouts and laughter from the other side. It was a gleaming white hotel with balconies on the back; she could see the top floors rising over the fence, much better than the ramshackle crammed-in house with rusty showerheads and sand in the mattresses. Same water, she thought, squelching her envy, they get the same beach we do. But this was a sad little beach. Grady surged like a live wire, pulling away and eager to be in the grey-green water, but she held on and stepped with distaste around broken beer-bottles and chunks of styrofoam. The horizon was infinite and curved but the air stank of fish. Podcasts,,Stories Tim Pratt no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/23/pseudopod-204-her-collection-of-intimacy/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/23/pseudopod-204-her-collection-of-intimacy/#comments Fri, 23 Jul 2010 05:01:49 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=291 http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/23/pseudopod-204-her-collection-of-intimacy/feed/ 26:01 By Paul Haines Read by Graeme Dunlop I wanted her to say shersquo;d had a few long-term boyfriends, a couple of one-night-stands. The fewer lovers the better. ... By Paul Haines Read by Graeme Dunlop I wanted her to say shersquo;d had a few long-term boyfriends, a couple of one-night-stands. The fewer lovers the better. I wanted her to make me feel superior in my sexual conquest of the world. I wanted her to say that, but I knew she wouldnrsquo;t. She recorded our lovemaking sessions to watch later. I knew what that meant in terms of experience. I wanted to be cool about it. I wanted to be able to handle it. Whatever went before didnrsquo;t matter. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Paul Haines yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/16/pseudopod-203-flash-on-the-borderlands-iii/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/16/pseudopod-203-flash-on-the-borderlands-iii/#comments Fri, 16 Jul 2010 05:01:47 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=290 http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/16/pseudopod-203-flash-on-the-borderlands-iii/feed/ 28:10 Ladies' night at the meat market. A threesome of delectable flash fiction morsels. My Body Your Banquet By C.S.E. Cooney Read by Jacquie Duckworth The man next door ... Ladies' night at the meat market. A threesome of delectable flash fiction morsels. My Body Your Banquet By C.S.E. Cooney Read by Jacquie Duckworth The man next door was interested in eating human flesh. He said as much, last time I took the trash out to the alley. Sight Unseen By R. Scott Shanks, Jr. Read by Rachel Swirsky "Wherever you touch yourself, you will feel my hands touching you." Sylvie reached for her aching head and felt a man's rough hand twined in her hair, gently but firmly pushing her face into her graying sheets. The Lot By C.M. Harris Read by Eve It's The Call of The Hydrae. It's started. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Cooney, Shanks, Harris yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/12/scheduling/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/12/scheduling/#comments Tue, 13 Jul 2010 03:45:14 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=289 http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/12/scheduling/feed/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/02/pseudopod-201-shadow-chaser/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/02/pseudopod-201-shadow-chaser/#comments Fri, 02 Jul 2010 05:01:11 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=288 http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/02/pseudopod-201-shadow-chaser/feed/ 28:21 By Simon Wood, whose latest thriller, Terminated is hot off the presses this month. Read by Ben Phillips Turning into the long driveway, I noticed three tall ... By Simon Wood, whose latest thriller, Terminated is hot off the presses this month. Read by Ben Phillips Turning into the long driveway, I noticed three tall figures standing shoulder to shoulder on the porch. That, I wasnrsquo;t expecting. This was meant to be a one-on-one affair with no spectators. Alarm bells rang in my head, but there was no way I could turn tail for the hills. I had to see things through, no matter how bad they got -- especially after the phone call. ldquo;Cam, you have to meet me. You have to help me stop you. If you donrsquo;t, people will die.rdquo; Irsquo;d recognized the voice immediately and knew I had no choice. Therersquo;d been too much killing over the years and if I could prevent any further bloodshed, then I would do my best. It was the least I could do, considering the amount of blood on my hands. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Simon Wood yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/09/pseudopod-202-eye-spy/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/09/pseudopod-202-eye-spy/#comments Fri, 09 Jul 2010 05:01:55 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=287 http://pseudopod.org/2010/07/09/pseudopod-202-eye-spy/feed/ 18:25 By K. A. Dean Read by Alasdair Stuart Sit down with the usual gut warp strength black coffee - only thing that's going to keep my eyes ... By K. A. Dean Read by Alasdair Stuart Sit down with the usual gut warp strength black coffee - only thing that's going to keep my eyes open all night really- and settle down to watch. I can't help smiling at it all, all those individual juddering images spread out in front of me, like an artificial compact eye watching the city. A hundred small screens surrounding the single, higher resolution monitor, all for me. So much information fed right back to me in my warm, dark skull of a control room. I can't help but enjoy it. Too much to pour over. So many minute human dramas played out over the night shift as though just for me, all of them oblivious. All so used now to the all seeing eye, that ever present observer above that hums and tracks them, benevolent and protective. Never look up, never acknowledge, but I don't mind. It's more interesting when they forget they're being watched. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction K.A. Dean yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/25/pseudopod-200/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/25/pseudopod-200/#comments Fri, 25 Jun 2010 05:01:00 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=285 http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/25/pseudopod-200/feed/ 51:00 In which we present, for your pleasurable unease, two classic tales of suspense and woe by two of the masters. Oil of Dog By Ambrose Bierce Read by ... In which we present, for your pleasurable unease, two classic tales of suspense and woe by two of the masters. Oil of Dog By Ambrose Bierce Read by Ben Phillips One evening while passing my father's oil factory with the body of a foundling from my mother's studio I saw a constable who seemed to be closely watching my movements. Young as I was, I had learned that a constable's acts, of whatever apparent character, are prompted by the most reprehensible motives, and I avoided him by dodging into the oilery by a side door which happened to stand ajar. I locked it at once and was alone with my dead. The Horror of the Heights By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle The thirty-thousand-foot level has been reached time after time with no discomfort beyond cold and asthma. What does this prove? A visitor might descend upon this planet a thousand times and never see a tiger. Yet tigers exist, and if he chanced to come down into a jungle he might be devoured. There are jungles of the upper air, and there are worse things than tigers which inhabit them. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Doyle and Bierce no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/18/pseudopod-199-broken-bough/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/18/pseudopod-199-broken-bough/#comments Fri, 18 Jun 2010 05:01:42 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=284 http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/18/pseudopod-199-broken-bough/feed/ 24:46 By Daniel I. Russell Read by Graeme Dunlop John walked into the small kitchen. About to pitch the hot tea across the room, he took a slow ... By Daniel I. Russell Read by Graeme Dunlop John walked into the small kitchen. About to pitch the hot tea across the room, he took a slow breath, tipped the drink down the sink and delicately placed the mug at the side. Hands covering his eyes, he leaned back against the table. ldquo;Why?rdquo; he asked. ldquo;Why us? What did we do?rdquo; Fists squeezed, he rubbed his eyelids, cursing God, cursing the events looped on the news, cursing Emma for burying her head in the sand and pretending everything was fine. Nothing was fine. Not a fucking thing. He stank. He ignored it. It had all begun three days ago. Dressing, washing, eating. None of it seemed important anymore. The first thing hersquo;d prepared in that time was the mug of tea, and that was a peace offering. ldquo;Get off the damn balcony!rdquo; he screamed and pounded his fists on the table top. The wine glasses at the centre jumped and clinked. A decision was needed. If Emma took the easy way out... Hersquo;d be the one left to make it. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Daniel I. Russell yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/11/pseudopod-198-the-mother-and-the-worm/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/11/pseudopod-198-the-mother-and-the-worm/#comments Fri, 11 Jun 2010 05:01:26 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=283 http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/11/pseudopod-198-the-mother-and-the-worm/feed/ 36:10 By Tim W. Burke Read by Paul S. Jenkins, author of The Plitone Revisionist We were in our places, Olivia at the door and I in the ... By Tim W. Burke Read by Paul S. Jenkins, author of The Plitone Revisionist We were in our places, Olivia at the door and I in the wicker basket. The windows were concealed with heavy curtains to keep out the afternoon sun, but oil lamps pushed back the gloom. The lady who entered our study first was the old friend of Oliviarsquo;s family, who embraced Olivia, then introduced her guests. The other matron wore black; she was the hopeful patron. The men were both young, one balding and mustached and the other dark and intense. They were surprised by her frank smile, by her firm handclasp, and they smirked. The basket that hid me was a cubit square. Within it, I sat naked on a thin cotton mat, waiting for my cue. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Tim W. Burke no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/04/pseudopod-197-set-down-this/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/04/pseudopod-197-set-down-this/#comments Fri, 04 Jun 2010 21:26:45 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=282 http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/04/pseudopod-197-set-down-this/feed/ 19:04 By Lavie Tidhar Read by Elan Ressel, voice actor for hire Closing music: "Mourning of the Storm" by The Secret Life On my brotherrsquo;s computer, a video ... By Lavie Tidhar Read by Elan Ressel, voice actor for hire Closing music: "Mourning of the Storm" by The Secret Life On my brotherrsquo;s computer, a video file shows an American fighter plane pinpointing a group of men in Iraq. lsquo;Do it?rsquo; the pilot says. lsquo;Confirmed.rsquo; lsquo;Ten seconds to impact.rsquo; Where the men have been there is a huge explosion, and black smoke covers the grainy grey streets. lsquo;Dude,rsquo; the pilot says. I have no faces and no names to put to the men. The black smoke must have contained the atoms of their flesh, their bones (though bones are hardy), vaporized sweat, burnt eyebrows and pubic hair and nose hair (unless they used a trimmer, as I do), in short, the atoms of their being. Later, I think, one could find, lying in the street, a tooth or two, the end of a finger that had somehow survived, fragments of bone, a legless shoe. These men are nothing to me. They are pixels on a screen, a peer-shared digital file uploaded from sources unknown, provenance suspect, whose only note of authenticity is that young pilotrsquo;s voice when the smoke rises and he says, quietly ndash; lsquo;Dude.rsquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Lavie Tidhar yes No http://pseudopod.org/guidelines/ http://pseudopod.org/guidelines/#comments Tue, 11 Jul 2006 04:13:04 +0000 editor http://pseudopod.org/?page_id=3 http://pseudopod.org/guidelines/feed/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/28/pseudopod-196-the-hand-youre-dealt/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/28/pseudopod-196-the-hand-youre-dealt/#comments Fri, 28 May 2010 22:55:43 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=281 http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/28/pseudopod-196-the-hand-youre-dealt/feed/ 34:46 By Frank Oreto Read by Jesse Livingston ldquo;Find yourself a nurse,rdquo; he remembered his mother saying as they prepared for her act. ldquo;They always have jobs and ... By Frank Oreto Read by Jesse Livingston ldquo;Find yourself a nurse,rdquo; he remembered his mother saying as they prepared for her act. ldquo;They always have jobs and they like to take care of men.rdquo; It was good advice but even Sharonrsquo;s patience had an end. Danny thought he had almost reached it. He borrowed the three hundred from her. Told her he was done gambling. ldquo;Does that include poker?rdquo; shersquo;d asked. It was a good question. Danny didnrsquo;t think of poker as gambling. He learned to cold read rubes in his motherrsquo;s mentalist act. His card-sharp father taught him to make the cards dance ndash; when the man was sober enough to hold a deck. Poker wasnrsquo;t gambling. When you gambled you might lose. Danny knew all about losing. He was down twelve grand to Rod Renshaw due to a string of sporting misjudgments that climaxed when the Steelers had the bad grace to win the Super Bowl but lose the point spread. That was gambling. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Frank Oreto yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/21/pseudopod-195-the-engine-of-desire/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/21/pseudopod-195-the-engine-of-desire/#comments Fri, 21 May 2010 16:53:03 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=280 http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/21/pseudopod-195-the-engine-of-desire/feed/ 49:29 By Livia Llewellyn Read by Philippa Ballantine All the signs of life are here, but this neighborhood has long been dead. They're the only family left, and ... By Livia Llewellyn Read by Philippa Ballantine All the signs of life are here, but this neighborhood has long been dead. They're the only family left, and even they've fallen apart, like rotting meat from the suburban bone. She walks down the driveway, her low pumps clacking against the blacktop. As she steps into the street, her heart races; and now she catches the faint whine, a sonorous metallic song calling out in reply. After all these lonely years, it's returned. From the far end of the cul-de-sac, a sixteen-year-old girl emerges from the tangled overhang of rhododendrons framing a long-abandoned house. She saunters into the street, tanned hips curving back and forth in waves as she moves. Though autumn hovers in the air, she brings perpetual summer, shimmering all around her in rippling waves. One hand touches a lock of black hair, then tugs at her striped tube-top -- for a single sublime moment, a caramel-colored areola peers into the rising dark. Megan feels the decades burn away like ash in the girl's heat. "Hey, spaz," Kelly says. "Got a light?" "You didn't change," Megan murmurs. "Thirty years, and you're just the same." "Yeah, I never change." "But I have changed. Can't you hear?" Megan presses her hand against her heart. "It's like it's inside me now, like I'm the engine, too." "Oh really? You're the engine?" Kelly slips a cigarette into her mouth. "Are you sure?" "You're not taking her. It's my turn." Kelly runs a long tongue over wet lips. "She's already taken -- it's what you made her for, right?" horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Livia Llewellyn yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/14/pseudopod-194-crawl/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/14/pseudopod-194-crawl/#comments Fri, 14 May 2010 06:19:28 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=279 http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/14/pseudopod-194-crawl/feed/ 25:50 By Lee Thompson Read by Dave Thompson of PodCastle Jim grinned. ldquo;If we cut his legs off, how far do you think he can crawl before he ... By Lee Thompson Read by Dave Thompson of PodCastle Jim grinned. ldquo;If we cut his legs off, how far do you think he can crawl before he dies?rdquo; Sometimes soldiers come back from war full of demons, like my older brother, Jim. He slapped my shoulder, grinning, his eyes shiny as the dark still water in Sullivan Countyrsquo;s gravel pit. I took a step back, sent stones rolling, and rubbed my arm. Sunlight soaked through the high trees at the edge of the property. Jim looked at Robert on the ground. I didnrsquo;t want to. Didnrsquo;t want to look at Jim either, but sometimes we do what we least want anyway, God knows why. Jim grinned. ldquo;What do you think, Gabe?rdquo; ldquo;I donrsquo;t know.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Lee Thompson yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/07/pseudopod-193-bed-of-scorpions/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/07/pseudopod-193-bed-of-scorpions/#comments Fri, 07 May 2010 07:02:50 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=278 http://pseudopod.org/2010/05/07/pseudopod-193-bed-of-scorpions/feed/ 32:22 By Silvia Moreno-Garcia Read by Christiana Ellis "It scares me," she said finally. "What?" "That hersquo;s dying." "Who cares?" She turned to look at him. "He's filthy rich, you know," Ramon said ... By Silvia Moreno-Garcia Read by Christiana Ellis "It scares me," she said finally. "What?" "That hersquo;s dying." "Who cares?" She turned to look at him. "He's filthy rich, you know," Ramon said as he smoked a cigarette. Normally he wore gloves to avoid staining his fingers, but he had foregone such formalities in this remote corner of the state. "I donrsquo;t want to marry him." "I said he was rich." "Maybe he will not want to marry me." "He better, and you better please him. Therersquo;s more money here than wersquo;ve ever had." "Then you please him." Ramon grabbed her by the jaw, fingers digging into her flesh, and pulled her forward. "Irsquo;ve had my share of old, ugly bitches in my bed. Sores and wrinkles and grey hair. All to keep you fed and dressed." "To keep us fed and dressed," she muttered. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Silvia Moreno-Garcia yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/30/pseudopod-192-the-radejastians/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/30/pseudopod-192-the-radejastians/#comments Fri, 30 Apr 2010 05:01:26 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=277 http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/30/pseudopod-192-the-radejastians/feed/ 46:56 By David Nickle Read by Erik Luke of Extruding America There is a cathedral in the middle of Radejast. It addresses the approaching pilgrim as a fist ... By David Nickle Read by Erik Luke of Extruding America There is a cathedral in the middle of Radejast. It addresses the approaching pilgrim as a fist of granite and slate and limestone, lifting black iron bells and arches and gargoyles to touch the dangled teat of the soot-cloud that ever hangs low over the land. Within: a forest of stone pillars, some carved with the likenesses of Radejast's saints, some simply chiseled with the mark of its venerable religion -- all surrounding the dome, so high and wide that when emerging from the pillars I stumbled beneath it, madly fearful that gravity might suddenly reverse, fling me from the floor, and smash me against the curved mosaics above the whispering gallery. The Good News Happening Congregation's hall was larger than Radejast's cathedral by half again: a great circular space beneath a peaked roof, lit from high, clear windows on every side. Behind the pulpit stood a crucifix with a painted sculpture of Jesus Christ bound to it, bright lines of blood trickling down his slender limbs, from the crown of thorns he wore. Altogether, it was half-again taller than any similar icon in Radejast. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction David Nickle yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/22/next-episode-eta/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/22/next-episode-eta/#comments Fri, 23 Apr 2010 02:00:39 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=276 http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/22/next-episode-eta/feed/ 33:44 By Simon Wood Read by Ian Stuart, voice actor for hire The place was different but the story was the same. The Japs had won at ... By Simon Wood Read by Ian Stuart, voice actor for hire The place was different but the story was the same. The Japs had won at the expense of the British. Theyrsquo;d been particularly ruthless on this occasion. Besides the bullet-riddled and grenade-ravaged corpses, he recognized the hallmarks of ritual decapitation and disembowelment. The battle over, theyrsquo;d set about the wounded with their samurai swords. Blood from hundreds saturated the beach. Clelland hadnrsquo;t realized until he became a Bucket Boy that blood had an odor. It wasnrsquo;t unpleasant, just overpowering, suffocating, like being trapped in a room filled with stale air. The soldiers had been dead some time. Twelve to fourteen hours, by Clellandrsquo;s estimates. The blazing sun had had a chance to cook the flesh. What should have been pink had blanched and turned beige. Instead of just the usual stench of shit and rotting flesh, a human barbecue was in progress. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Simon Wood yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/15/pseudopod-190-wearing-the-dead/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/15/pseudopod-190-wearing-the-dead/#comments Fri, 16 Apr 2010 04:45:19 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=275 http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/15/pseudopod-190-wearing-the-dead/feed/ 39:28 By Alan Smale Read by Kris Johnson Trixie's dead claws scrabbled faintly against the wooden stairs. The hairs on my arm came alive. It was clear Robbie ... By Alan Smale Read by Kris Johnson Trixie's dead claws scrabbled faintly against the wooden stairs. The hairs on my arm came alive. It was clear Robbie hadn't heard a thing. What the heck could I say next? "I see you have tattoos." "Yep," he said, and pushed up the sleeve on his right arm. "Check this out." They were hard to figure; dark shadows against his black skin. Against my better judgment, I was intrigued. I stepped forward. It was a Celtic knot in a thick swirly pattern that went all around his bicep. He pushed up his left sleeve to show the silhouette of a heart with a long dagger thrust through it, ornamented with scrollwork. "Neat," I said. "Got any more?" Robbie hesitated, and I realized what a potentially stupid question that had been. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Alan Smale yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/09/pseudopod-189-gretel/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/09/pseudopod-189-gretel/#comments Fri, 09 Apr 2010 05:01:53 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=272 http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/09/pseudopod-189-gretel/feed/ 26:52 By Camille Alexa Read by Claudia Smith He was tall and quiet, and thinner even than Gretel. Cigarette burn scars covered one cheek, and he was ... By Camille Alexa Read by Claudia Smith He was tall and quiet, and thinner even than Gretel. Cigarette burn scars covered one cheek, and he was blind in his left eye from an especially bad night with his father. Gretel thought he was beautiful. You're beautiful, he told her later that night, after her stepmother had driven away and Brykerwoods orderlies had taken Gretel's leather jacket and the contents of her pockets... but not the lipstick tube they hadn't found in her bra. After she'd found him, like an uncharted territory, or an undiscovered planet, sitting on the dirty white linoleum next to a vacant chair in an empty TV room without a television. After she'd had handed him one hit of acid and placed the other under her tongue. You're beautiful. I'm not, she said. My front teeth jut like fallen tombstones. My nose is the size of a bus and my hair is like strips of rotting bacon and my eyes are small and brown as rabbit turds. You must be tripping. And he said, I am, but that's not why I like you. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Camille Alexa yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/02/pseudopod-188-the-dark-level/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/02/pseudopod-188-the-dark-level/#comments Fri, 02 Apr 2010 05:01:12 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=271 http://pseudopod.org/2010/04/02/pseudopod-188-the-dark-level/feed/ 19:43 By John F.D. Taff Read by Ian Stuart, voice actor for hire! Monday morning came, and Jim wondered at the fact that no other cars followed or ... By John F.D. Taff Read by Ian Stuart, voice actor for hire! Monday morning came, and Jim wondered at the fact that no other cars followed or preceded him into the garage. And yet, as his car swirled down the ramps, he noticed that almost every parking space was filled. Hersquo;d gone slowly down three levels looking for space ldquo;1103rdquo; before it became so dark he was forced to turn on the headlights. He barely made out a ldquo;321rdquo; in dirty yellow numbers on an empty space to his left, between a Thunderbird and a Stanza. As he wound deeper into the building, his eyes became adjusted to the dim light. Still, he did not see a single person; no one pulling into a space, climbing out of a car, filing toward the bank of elevators. Motes of dust sparkled in his headlights as his car swept through the aisles. The parked cars wore the dust like sequined dresses. His car curled around the last corner, and he barely saw the numerals painted onto the dingy wall as his headlights raked across them. Level 11. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction John F.D. Taff yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/26/pseudopod-187-oded-the-merciless/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/26/pseudopod-187-oded-the-merciless/#comments Fri, 26 Mar 2010 05:01:03 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=270 http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/26/pseudopod-187-oded-the-merciless/feed/ 27:38 By Tina Starr Read by Donna Lynch of Ego Likeness "Breedless" out on Metropolis Records Apr 13, 2010 -- order one now The voice jarred her again. "Meluna. Your ... By Tina Starr Read by Donna Lynch of Ego Likeness "Breedless" out on Metropolis Records Apr 13, 2010 -- order one now The voice jarred her again. "Meluna. Your scars are not unattractive. Your missing ears are no detraction from your beauty. Your sunken left cheekbone allows an aesthetic break from symmetry as does your partially amputated nose. Your lips have been sewn into small grooves and peaks that provide sensual variety in color and texture. Your bodyhellip;" "Shut up!" She shouted the words, putting her hands over the holes where her ears had been. The movement made her tilt, off balance. She collapsed with a moan. The voice coming from everywhere like a godrsquo;s voice, saying such things to her. Obscene. If there was a god, hersquo;d abandoned her months ago. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Tina Starr yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/12/pseudopod-185-charlie-harmer-looks-back/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/12/pseudopod-185-charlie-harmer-looks-back/#comments Fri, 12 Mar 2010 05:01:55 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=268 http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/12/pseudopod-185-charlie-harmer-looks-back/feed/ 26:41 By Brendan Detzner Read by Eric Luke The boss is coming. She graciously gives me time to collect myself. Wersquo;re in some kind of a lounge; everything ... By Brendan Detzner Read by Eric Luke The boss is coming. She graciously gives me time to collect myself. Wersquo;re in some kind of a lounge; everything is upholstered with vertical stripes and there are flaming torches on the walls. The boss is not big on context, sometimes. I donrsquo;t hold it against her, shersquo;s a busy lady. Itrsquo;s really warm in here. The smell of sulfur fills the air and vanishes, and shersquo;s sitting in front of me. Shersquo;s wearing a red dress. She has long, sumptuous brown hair; you want to go swimming in it, you imagine it cool against your skin like water. ldquo;Yoursquo;re staring, Charlie,rdquo; she says. ldquo;Irsquo;m sorry, I canrsquo;t help myself. I didnrsquo;t think Irsquo;d have the chance to see you again.rdquo; I had a regular job not too long ago but I did something I shouldnrsquo;t have and lost it. She fired me, but never got upset. Shersquo;s never all that surprised when people do things they shouldnrsquo;t. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Brendan Detzner no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/05/pseudopod-184-the-identifier/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/05/pseudopod-184-the-identifier/#comments Fri, 05 Mar 2010 04:01:38 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=267 http://pseudopod.org/2010/03/05/pseudopod-184-the-identifier/feed/ 25:30 By Mark Patrick Morehead Read by Ben Phillips I clear a space toward the back of my sorting table, by the auto parts bin. Itrsquo;s as far ... By Mark Patrick Morehead Read by Ben Phillips I clear a space toward the back of my sorting table, by the auto parts bin. Itrsquo;s as far back as I can reach and enough other crap is piled there that the bottle will probably go unnoticed. My hands start sweating and claustrophobia about overwhelms me when I pick up the bottle again--itrsquo;s like my wheelchair is a big mousetrap and Irsquo;m pinned by the refrigerator with the lights on and the man of the house stomping toward me with stick. Smoothly, and I hope nonchalantly, I move the bottle to the table and push some old rags against it. Still no one looking. Leaning back, I relax a little even though this was the easy part. "This is the day," I tell myself. "After all this time, this is my day." Two years. Thatrsquo;s how long Irsquo;ve been here. They caught me a couple weeks after the war started. Damn it happened fast. They just appeared, everywhere, all across the world. One day the price of oil and some brush war were the big news; the next day, the world broke and they invaded what was left. Maorg, Hoods and a half-dozen other kinds appeared out of nowhere, hitting every continent at once. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Mark Patrick Morehead yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/26/pseudopod-183-learning-to-fly/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/26/pseudopod-183-learning-to-fly/#comments Fri, 26 Feb 2010 04:01:34 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=265 http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/26/pseudopod-183-learning-to-fly/feed/ 16:57 By Garth Upshaw Read by Jacquie Duckworth I set my feet and reached for the next rung of the ladder. The wind snatched at my clothes, whipping ... By Garth Upshaw Read by Jacquie Duckworth I set my feet and reached for the next rung of the ladder. The wind snatched at my clothes, whipping my bomber jacket against my thighs, and then pulling it outwards in a billow, tugging me sideways towards the scary drop. I muttered three short Words, voice cracking on the last, and the wind's grip slackened, leaving me in a fragile bubble of calm. I sagged against the wet, rusty ladder. Spots flickered at the edge of my vision, and I tried to catch my breath. The preparation for tonight had taken months, and electric anticipation warred with the exhaustion in my body. I'd snared the rats with generous dollops of peanut butter in long rectangular, live-catch traps. Their fur was sleek and glossy. They were greedy, bright-eyed pests, always wanting more than they needed. Never satisfied. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Garth Upshaw yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/18/slight-delay-on-pseudopod-182/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/18/slight-delay-on-pseudopod-182/#comments Thu, 18 Feb 2010 23:23:09 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=264 http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/18/slight-delay-on-pseudopod-182/feed/ 34:57 By Jim Bihyeh Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of the Teknikal Diffikulties podcast Her teachers never asked her to remove the headphones. What was the point? The ... By Jim Bihyeh Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of the Teknikal Diffikulties podcast Her teachers never asked her to remove the headphones. What was the point? The girl earned a 100% on every quiz and exam, and when they called on her, Lynnette spat the answer back like a rifle ejecting a shell. ldquo;The girl just has a way with tests,rdquo; her teachers repeated. ldquo;She knows how to prepare.rdquo; But Lynette caught a lot of shit for her test grades. Part of the Navajo culture said that you werenrsquo;t supposed to stand out from the group. But Lynette already stood out. ldquo;Lynette, Lyn-Ette! Teacherrsquo;s Pet!rdquo; went the usual recess refrain. ldquo;Lynette, Lyn-Ette! Teacherrsquo;s Pet! About as tall as a jumbo jet!rdquo; And Lynette was tall. She towered past six feet by the time she reached eighth grade. And her long black hair that she rarely brushed only made her seem taller when it fell down over her wide shoulders; she was heavy-set, truly big-boned, more muscle than fat. And she put that muscle to use during the ldquo;Lynette Incidents,rdquo; as they came to be called. Podcasts,,Stories Jim Bihyeh yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/05/pseudopod-180/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/05/pseudopod-180/#comments Fri, 05 Feb 2010 04:01:26 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=263 http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/05/pseudopod-180/feed/ 28:22 By Barrie Darke Read by Ben Phillips It occurred to me later that week that maybe, just perhaps, it was happening to the other family men in ... By Barrie Darke Read by Ben Phillips It occurred to me later that week that maybe, just perhaps, it was happening to the other family men in the office, that they were also noticing these things about their families ndash;- Thomas Malone, only in his early 20s but with two young boys, looked harried a lot of the time, and I thought about taking him out for a drink after work one day. But how do you go about broaching that subject? How many drinks would you need in you to mention you thought your family had been...? And what would happen to you if you got back looks that moved from the merely quizzical to the horribly worried? The whole idea of it happening elsewhere to other people was still hazy at that point anyway, so I thought Irsquo;d better let him come to me. I was an approachable boss, after all. At home, it was how I imagine living in a haunted house must be. You moved in dread of every little awry sign, trying to convince yourself that the gaps between them were widening rather than shortening, accelerating. And that if the signs were there, then they really werenrsquo;t growing any more significant, they really werenrsquo;t becoming bone-rattlingly critical. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Barrie Darke yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/12/pseudopod-181-spirit-of-nationalism/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/12/pseudopod-181-spirit-of-nationalism/#comments Fri, 12 Feb 2010 04:01:14 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=262 http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/12/pseudopod-181-spirit-of-nationalism/feed/ 37:02 By Richard Marsden Read by Mike Bennett The wind bit into his skin like daggers into flesh. The cold was like no other he had felt, and ... By Richard Marsden Read by Mike Bennett The wind bit into his skin like daggers into flesh. The cold was like no other he had felt, and he knew it was only going to get worse, day by day. Never mind the night; even people such as himself had to find shelter by night or end up a victim of his own trade by dawn. Gregorie's eyes panned out across the vast, empty, bleak Russian landscape. It reminded him of looking out to sea from the docks at Cherbourg, with its long piers and obstacle strewn harbor to keep His enemies at bay. The steppes of Russia, much like the waters outside the port city. Here and there he could spy a single tree, or what looked to be a hill or solitary steeple. White land, white skies, and cold wind made Gregorie curse Him again. Why had they marched so far? What was the point of Borodino and the thousands dead they had to leave unburied, and only a week ago had to trample upon as they retreated? There was no point, beyond the vainglory visions of a man. Of Him! A groan redirected Gregorie's thoughts. He looked at the makeshift path the Grand Army had carved through the snow. While Russia might be near-featureless, His army was leaving behind plenty of markers. Podcasts,,Stories Richard Marsden no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/29/pseudopod-179-fading-light/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/29/pseudopod-179-fading-light/#comments Fri, 29 Jan 2010 04:01:57 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=261 http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/29/pseudopod-179-fading-light/feed/ 22:52 By Simon Strantzas Read by Nerraux It reminds me of the place Jackson and I lived in during our final year of university. The corridors are ... By Simon Strantzas Read by Nerraux It reminds me of the place Jackson and I lived in during our final year of university. The corridors are filled with the partial light of forty-watt bulbs, and the walls look soiled and gummy -- the odour of cooking meat and bleach sweating from them. Only three straight corridors, one on top of the other, each end marked by a staircase: the building feels decidedly utilitarian. Unlike our old apartment, however, there's no telling how long Jackson will be here for. "I feel like I've been robbed by myself," he says, surveying the scattered boxes. "She only took the things I cared most about. Gilbert, she even took my cat. My cat!" He shakes his head. "All she left me was this." His trembling hands unwrap a framed photograph of Janet and himself in Africa on the trip they had planned over a year to take together. In it, Jackson is adjusting a safari hat too large for him, trying to keep it from falling over his eyes. Janet has her brown cheek pressed up against his, focused on something beyond the photographer. Both are smiling. "I know I should throw this away," he says. "But I can't. Why can't I throw it away?" I shift boxes around, wondering how I'm suddenly supposed to know the answer. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Simon Strantzas no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/22/pseudopod-178-the-tamga/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/22/pseudopod-178-the-tamga/#comments Fri, 22 Jan 2010 04:01:04 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=260 http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/22/pseudopod-178-the-tamga/feed/ 41:00 By Maura McHugh Read by Cheyenne Wright Floating above the earth, Kulin checked the boundary around the graveyard. To his relief the hungry ghosts were contained, but ... By Maura McHugh Read by Cheyenne Wright Floating above the earth, Kulin checked the boundary around the graveyard. To his relief the hungry ghosts were contained, but the binding charms showed signs of deterioration. He cloaked his lifeforce so the dead would ignore his presence; a chill settled over his heart. He could not maintain the illusion for long. He slipped into the sacred grove. The pallid forms of the dead, some still, other agitated, moved around the confines of the graveyard. The outlines of the grave huts loomed above them: little wooden cabins on fragile stilts, where the soul dolls resided. Underneath them lay the grave boats in which the bodies were interred. Anger and grief saturated the atmosphere, and Kulin restrained the violent shaking that threatened to overcome him. The living were not welcome. The Tamga stood in the middle of the cemetery. Its skinny arms stretched upwards, and its black hair flared out. Kulin shrank into himself, and concealed his life's pulse. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Maura McHugh no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/15/pseudopod-177-turning-the-apples/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/15/pseudopod-177-turning-the-apples/#comments Fri, 15 Jan 2010 04:01:00 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=259 http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/15/pseudopod-177-turning-the-apples/feed/ 29:24 By Tina Connolly Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy Getting infected makes your brain rewriteable. Surviving makes you able to rewrite. Not everyone gets it; most ... By Tina Connolly Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy Getting infected makes your brain rewriteable. Surviving makes you able to rewrite. Not everyone gets it; most natives are immune and even many tourists are. One half percent is a low enough number that tourists flock in by the thousands, through the major port city and down south to the waters. The adults that get it are in a coma within 24 hours. It's only kids who sometimes survive. By the time Szo saw his mother, he'd turned nineteen minds for Hawk. He remembers the first one particularly, like you remember a first girl or first trick. But he remembers all the others, too. "Don't know why you would," says Jonny. "I don't remember all the men." But Szo does, and he clings to each one, proof that somehow he is not like Jonny, not like Hawk, not like himself. This is all temporary and therefore changeable, rewriteable. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Tina Connolly yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/08/pseudopod-176-the-blessed-days/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/08/pseudopod-176-the-blessed-days/#comments Fri, 08 Jan 2010 04:01:45 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=258 http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/08/pseudopod-176-the-blessed-days/feed/ 39:41 By Mike Allen Read by Ben Phillips What finally saved him at the not-so-tender age of fourteen was a book about lucid dreams he found at the community ... By Mike Allen Read by Ben Phillips What finally saved him at the not-so-tender age of fourteen was a book about lucid dreams he found at the community college library. He followed the recommended exercise out of desperation, repeating until he fell asleep: ldquo;I will know when I am dreaming. I will remember what I dream.rdquo; Just as his first encounters with the morbid plunged him into nightmare, his first attempt at lucid dreaming introduced him to unlimited power. He again found himself in the City of Mazes, pursued by a crowd pulled on fleshy strings. You are all inside my head, he thought, and knew they were. He commanded, Stop, and they did, collapsing to the ground as their severed strings thrashed like loose hoses. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Mike Allen yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/01/pseudopod-175-flash-on-the-borderlands-ii/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/01/pseudopod-175-flash-on-the-borderlands-ii/#comments Fri, 01 Jan 2010 04:01:31 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=254 http://pseudopod.org/2010/01/01/pseudopod-175-flash-on-the-borderlands-ii/feed/ 27:28 A writhing pile of flash fiction stories combined, against all reason, into one congealed mass. The Desert By Tom Leveen Read by Jaron Cohen "They havenrsquo;t moved since . ... A writhing pile of flash fiction stories combined, against all reason, into one congealed mass. The Desert By Tom Leveen Read by Jaron Cohen "They havenrsquo;t moved since . . ." Dom started to say, then cut himself off. I knew how the sentence finished. Since Trish and Jack had made a run for their car parked beyond the driveway, thatrsquo;s what he was going to say. Since the spiders had swarmed them. Benefits By John Robinson Read by Freeman Goodyear The real person will never know that a copy of them just committed adultery in another part of town because, well, we can grow you from a piece of hair. A bit of skin. Fingernail clipping. Done. Person goes home, clone gets reduced to composite atoms, spouse is none the wiser -- everybody's happy! Bird in a Wrought Iron Cage By John Alfred Taylor Read by the Dunesteef Audio Fiction Magazine crew He opened up the musty buffalo-hide trunk with its green-stained brass fittings and pulled out the cage inside. For a second, I thought it held a huge brown spider, until I saw the fingernails like broken roots. Then it crawled to the corner of the cage and picked up a pen. Theme music as usual: "Bloodletting on the Kiss" by Anders Manga Additional music in this episode: "Ihaveseenthis" by Hopeful Machines horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Leveen, Robinson, Taylor yes No http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/25/pseudopod-174-the-primakov/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/25/pseudopod-174-the-primakov/#comments Fri, 25 Dec 2009 04:01:08 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=253 http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/25/pseudopod-174-the-primakov/feed/ 21:17 By R.J. Hobbs Read by Ben Phillips It was a Tuesday night when the Primakov received an emergency transmission on the ICT radio from The Bakapor, a ... By R.J. Hobbs Read by Ben Phillips It was a Tuesday night when the Primakov received an emergency transmission on the ICT radio from The Bakapor, a distressed fishing vessel from Petropavlovsk. The captain translated the Russian slowly, word by word, with a phrasebook. The night was completely calm, and the ocean lapped up against the hull with gentle rhythmic intensity. The Bakapor had lost fuel after a storm, and required additional petrol if the sailors were ever to see their wives and mothers again. The Primakov wouldnrsquo;t even have to change direction to give them assistance. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction R.J. Hobbs no No http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/18/pseudopod-173-bophuthatswana/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/18/pseudopod-173-bophuthatswana/#comments Fri, 18 Dec 2009 04:01:47 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=252 http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/18/pseudopod-173-bophuthatswana/feed/ 28:21 By Lavie Tidhar Read by Elan Ressel, voice actor for hire through Voices.com It was just before the referendum, when white people voted on giving black people ... By Lavie Tidhar Read by Elan Ressel, voice actor for hire through Voices.com It was just before the referendum, when white people voted on giving black people the right to vote. The skies were clear, the African sun was hot on my young face, and the wild scent of earth, of renewal, was in everything. All the Stop signs had F.W. sprayed on them. Stop F.W. Stop De Klerk. Eugegrave;ne Terre'Blanche was king. I watched the Boer Nation on TV. Eugegrave;ne, big and red-faced, a barrel of beer full of righteous White-Christian indignation. Eugegrave;ne and his boys. I watched the bombs flower over Johannesburg in brilliant reds and yellows, fire and blood. Eugegrave;ne and his boys valiantly rode to battle with pipe-bombs and guns, and I watched it on television. I felt like I was locked up, bound within the confines of the house, the garden, the walls, the barbed wire. A quick primer on Afrikaans slang: bankie - a bank coin bag, or bag of similar size, in which marijuana is sold (i.e., a dimebag) dagga - marijuana (pronounced Dacha -- the gg is the sound in Spanish J or hebrew Chet) lekker - good, excellent moer - to beat brutally moffie - homosexual (slur) jol - fun, good time kaffir - a black south African (slur) voetsek - go away; get lost; fuck off tokoloshe - spectre/gremlin (orig. Zulu mythology) Edit: Listener Andreacute; Vermaak wrote in regarding the above slurs to emphasize that they are possibly more offensive than any used in American slang. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Lavie Tidhar yes No http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/11/pseudopod-172-the-dude-who-collected-lovecraft/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/11/pseudopod-172-the-dude-who-collected-lovecraft/#comments Fri, 11 Dec 2009 04:01:09 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=251 http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/11/pseudopod-172-the-dude-who-collected-lovecraft/feed/ 37:23 By Nick Mamatas and Tim Pratt Read by Jaron Cohen I thought about the brittle old letters in my briefcase, which included (among genial advice on writing ... By Nick Mamatas and Tim Pratt Read by Jaron Cohen I thought about the brittle old letters in my briefcase, which included (among genial advice on writing and cranky complaints about publishers) a few passages of deep loathing about "the niggers and immigrants who fester and shamble in the slums of our fallen cities." Ah, Lovecraft. I always wondered how my great-grandfather's letters back to him might have read. I doubted if old Cavanaugh Payne ever told his idol that he was a "miscegenator" himself. Three generations later, I was fresh out of white skin privilege myself, but I had enough of Cavanaugh's legacy to clear all my debts, assuming I could ever find the isolated country house where this collector lived. The hand-drawn map Fremgen had mailed me was crude, and obviously not to scale, so it was a little like following a treasure map made by a pirate with a spatial perception disorder. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Mamatas and Pratt yes No http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/04/pseudopod-171-napiers-bones/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/04/pseudopod-171-napiers-bones/#comments Fri, 04 Dec 2009 04:01:14 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=250 http://pseudopod.org/2009/12/04/pseudopod-171-napiers-bones/feed/ 44:08 By Stephen Gaskell Read by Ian Stuart, voice actor for hire through voices.com A DESCRIPTION OF THE ADMIRABLE TABLE OF LOGA- RITHMES: WITH A DECLARATION OF The Most Plentifvl, Easy, And Speedy Vse ... By Stephen Gaskell Read by Ian Stuart, voice actor for hire through voices.com A DESCRIPTION OF THE ADMIRABLE TABLE OF LOGA- RITHMES: WITH A DECLARATION OF The Most Plentifvl, Easy, And Speedy Vse thereof in both kindes of Trigonometrie, as also in all Mathematicall calculations. Tom flicked through the book. Obtuse definitions and diagrams like fishbones filled the pages. A -- seventeenth century? -- textbook on logarithms? How the hell had Great Uncle Alvin ended up with this? Tom peered into the box. Another chapbook titled "Rabdologia", by the same author, John Napier. He shuffled through the other papers in the box. All writings by or about the man: extravagantly illustrated occult texts; religious revelations; serious biographies. At the bottom, wedged beneath a thick medical textbook with an MRI scan of the brain on the cover, Tom caught sight of several off-white stones. Their smooth, heart-shaped surfaces gleamed in the torchlight. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Stephen Gaskell no No http://pseudopod.org/2009/11/27/pseudopod-170-the-sultan-of-meat/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/11/27/pseudopod-170-the-sultan-of-meat/#comments Fri, 27 Nov 2009 04:01:11 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=249 http://pseudopod.org/2009/11/27/pseudopod-170-the-sultan-of-meat/feed/ 30:29 By James B. Pepe Read by Kris Johnson I shrugged my shoulders and leveled the .44 cap-and-ball at its plaintive face. The squirrel thanked me, got ... By James B. Pepe Read by Kris Johnson I shrugged my shoulders and leveled the .44 cap-and-ball at its plaintive face. The squirrel thanked me, got up on its hind paws, put the metal in its mouth, and suckled on the long barrel like a caged guinea pig taking water from a bottle. I cocked the hammer. The annihilating thunderclap, the blue smoke, the oddly gentle kick, the spray of blood, bone, and fur on my boots -- all one blur, one true moment, a thing of terrible clarity. Deafened, ears ringing, I tucked my head into the crook of my arm, dropped to my knees, and wept. The buzzing in my head, the buzzing in the forest, dopplering off the sugar maples, oaks, and corpses of long-dead Dutch Rotted elms. The buzzing was everywhere. Beneath my palms, the dead leaves on the forest floor vibrated in time to that all-pervasive power station hum. The buzzing was everywhere, and I wept. We are meat, mad meat. Nothing more. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction James B. Pepe yes No