Author Archive

PseudoPod 372: Silver And Copper, Iron And Ash


Silver And Copper, Iron And Ash

by Nathaniel Lee


Something was following him. He had enough woodcraft to know that, although he hadn’t been able to catch sight of it. A rogue wolf, perhaps, or a mountain lion; something solitary and hungry, cautious but lured by the smell of blood on him. He’d have to sit up with the rifle for a night or two and make sure the goats didn’t come to harm.

With a final glance at the darkened woods, James hefted his gunnysack and began the final climb down to the fragile safety of walls.

PseudoPod 347: Flash On The Borderlands XVI: Trial & Discipline

Show Notes

“Passing Grade” is a PseudoPod original.

“The Killing Machine” has never been formally published before, but an edited version was presented at the 2nd Open Reading for Beijing Writers, which is a small quarterly event open to anyone in the Beijing area who writes creatively, in any form. “When we are guilty of evil, do we deserve empathy? When we are victims of evil, are we capable of feeling empathy for those who have harmed us? Just how much punishment is too much? Where exactly do we draw the line between justice and cruelty?”

“Awaiting Redemption” was bought by the Horror World web site. “People can claim a religious faith but use it strictly as a cover for their own cruelty (that has nothing to do with their religion).”


“Passing Grade”

by Paul DesCombaz


This wasn’t cutesy time. You don’t get personal with the bad things coming for you. You don’t make sweet talk to nightmares. Just make it through to the other end. That’s your only job. Or something along those lines. (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 303: Flash On The Borderlands XIII – Responsible Parties

Show Notes

Magnitude Seven was originally published in Niteblade, December 2011.

A Murder of Crows and Always Grinning are PseudoPod originals.


A Murder Of Crows

by Tres Crow

Read by Malcolm Charles


I grab him by his shirt and yank him to his feet. He is so thin, a bird, just like his mother, and the reek of liquor from his pores and breath stings in my nostrils. I shake him.

“John…” starts my wife, dropping the shovels, but I wave her away.

“Stop your whining. It’s your fault we’re out here. If you weren’t such a goddamn idiot,” I yell at him and I shake him and I stamp my feet. (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 301: The Last Man After The War


The Last Man After The War

by Erich William Bergmeier


The strangers arrived after dark. Raymond could hear them behind the cabin, the twigs cracking under their feet. He went to the bed and grabbed his shotgun and stood with his back to the wall. Quietly, he chambered a round.

“Who’s that?” he called out.

“Just people looking for a place to sleep,” a man replied.

Clara opened the heavy oak door and looked out through the screen. She saw them standing there in the half light; a husband and wife and their little girl. She looked at Raymond with pleading eyes, but he shook his head. Clara thought of their own children, how much she hoped that someone would open their door to them.

“Come in,” she said. “You must be freezing.”

The three strangers came up on the deck and skulked in through the door. They were thin and pale, and in the harsh light of the kerosene lamp the lines on their faces were as deep as dried up river beds. Clara motioned for them to sit down at the table while Raymond stood rigid in the corner with the handle of the shotgun pressed into his armpit. The man’s eyes moved around the room as he took stock of the empty shelves and the dishes stacked beside the sink. Clara had just finished putting the last of their food in the cellar before the family arrived and Raymond was thankful for that. It meant there would be no trouble.