Posts Tagged ‘Add new tag’

Pseudopod 332: Willow Tests Well


Willow Tests Well

by Nick Mamatas

 


Tenth birthday: greeting cards from the CIA and NSA. Willow had scored ridiculously well on the Race to the Top tests, and even discovered the instructions for and answered the questions in the secret test integrated into the exam. Questions like

What does the old saying “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” mean?”

a. birds are unpleasant because they need to be cared for

b. it’s better to own something than risk what you have for a potential reward

c. if you have a bird in your hand, you can squeeze it, you can kill it…

d. possession is nine-tenths of the law

Pseudopod 242: The 7 Garages of Kevin Simpson


The 7 Garages of Kevin Simpson

by Alan Baxter


‘Seven garages?’

‘Yes, Mrs Baker. Your father’s will identifies each one and dictates that they have all been left to you, along with the family home.’

Claire sat stunned for several seconds, staring across the solicitor’s desk. ‘Seven garages?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The solicitor was smiling. ‘Mostly on industrial estates, commercial lock-up garages, in suburbs around northern and western Sydney, though there is one on a farm property just outside Burrawang on the Southern Highlands and one in North Bondi.’

Claire looked at Ben. Her husband shrugged. ‘You don’t think this is weird?’ Claire asked him.

‘Sure, it’s weird. But not really any weirder than anything else your old man ever did.’

. . .

Continue reading here.

Pseudopod 225: Top Of The Heap

Show Notes

We would be remiss if I didn’t provide a link to this


Top of the Heap

By Nathan Robinson


I open my eyes and the dead smile back with bare teeth. In the fresh, sparse daylight I can see the bodies beneath me. I want to reach out and touch their faces, close their beseeching eyes. I recognize a few of them. Some I don’t, either through decomposition or the fact that I didn’t dump them here. Marcone has a lot of guys and a lot of enemies, so a few strangers sit down here with me.

The thought of food rumbles my stomach, making it ache. I keep my eyes up, away from the bodies, I look up the throat of the shaft, towards daylight, towards hope.

PseudoPod 121: Blood, Snow, and Sparrows


Blood, Snow, and Sparrows

By Joshua Alan Doetsch


Desdemona used to trace the stars with her finger, connecting the dots, naming her own constellations.

I call upon her name.

Desdemona.

I call her name when I want to remember.

Desdemona — who gave me thirty-one birthdays when I had none. Desdemona — who laughed and made snow angels on rooftops because the snow there was cleanest, the closest to Heaven. Desdemona — who made an angel of snow and blood in the dirty street on the day I lost her.

I remember this, now, as Zeek struggles in my arms, anger and fear evacuating his body in crimson spurts, and my smile dislocates my jaw. Zeek with the shroud-eye, one eye glaucoma clouded, said it was his evil eye, said he could hex a body with a stare, cast a pestilence. But, see, I knew better. I knew it was Zeek’s dirty needles that killed the kids. And the night collapses with primate shrieks as Zeek tries to lift his bloody gun and . . .

Freeze.

Too far.