Posts Tagged ‘homeless’

Pseudopod 296: The Squat


The Squat

by Sean Logan


The floor underneath him was sticky, as if it was covered in warm honey, and it made the skin on his hands and the side of face sting slightly where he’d touched it. All around him he heard the wet sounds of sliding, a thousand separate sounds, a thousand entities sliding toward him in the darkness. And all of these sounds seemed to echo down through a vast space, along with a deep, distant rumbling.

The sliding noises were closer now, and there was a wet, fleshy slapping against his feet, and creeping up his legs, under the pantlegs, thick coiling muscles, like long slugs or smooth tentacles, up and around his torso and arms, his neck and covering his face.

The old man felt himself being stretched and pulled and smothered, but the panic that had been rising in his mind was melting away. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten himself here, but for the first time in a long, long while he knew exactly where he was going. And he found comfort in that as his body and its extremities were pulled asunder.

Pseudopod 292: Coming Soon To A Theatre Near You


Coming Soon To A Theatre Near You

by David J. Schow


The Omicron reminded Jack of a kid’s bedroom. To an adult, a non-initiate, it sure looked like a trash heap. But there was a comforting order inside for those who cared to delve past the superficial. It would never appeal to the Rolls Royce trade, yet was not as bad as the kung-fu sleaze pits of downtown L.A. which looked razed by Mongols. The Omicron was, in essence, a “normal” theatre stripped down for combat; its patrons exemplars of the no-frills class.