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PseudoPod 469: Hunger

Show Notes

“I’m Canadian and winters can be long and rough up here, and that was sort of the inspiration for this story. It wasn’t uncommon for people in rural areas not all that long ago to get horribly lost during a whiteout (a heavy and unrelenting snowstorm). People would leave their home to get something in their barn, and they’d be found a few days later in a pile of snow because they couldn’t find their way back. I always thought it was a terrifying idea, and I really hope the listeners at home think so too!”


Hunger

by Caitlin Marceau


Jean pulls a pine needle from inside his coat pocket and slowly begins to gnaw on it. “It’s better than dying lost in a forest, or being eaten by starving wolves.”

“I’d welcome the wolves, Jean. At least then I’d have a chance to bite some meat off one of them, and die with a full stomach. Besides, the dogs had enough brains to get out of here a long while ago.”

“There’s still some. How else do you account for the howling outside our cabin all night?”

“The wind,” he shoots back dismissively.

“Or a wendigo,” Jean says quietly, in a voice a whisper. (Continue Reading…)

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PseudoPod 468: The Angel In The Marble

Show Notes

‘The Angel In The Marble’ is an example of a kind of story that has haunted and fascinated me since early childhood and which, until writing this, I had never quite expressed in words. It’s one of those ‘stormy night’ stories we find in the darker corners of books of fairytales in which someone is lost in a deep wood and so follows the single light shining from a nearby cabin; wandering, unknowingly, even further from the road. It’s a story about two strangers, not desiring company and having their own personal reasons for solitude, who nevertheless meet on common ground and must reveal and complete one another’s stories. I see this as a trope very near to the heart of horror and dark literature and I’ve witnessed it play out time and again in such places as Pinter’s The Caretaker and No Man’s Land, Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night and, more recently, the 2008 Marek Losey film The Hide, which is probably the best contemporary example I can name.


The Angel In The Marble

by B.T. Joy


It’s always been the consensus that symmetry is synonymous with beauty.

But Adrian Speer disagreed.

What was more symmetrical than that block of rough, square-edged marble; fresh from the quarry? If symmetry was all we were looking for we’d be exhibiting a slab of raw, unchiseled stone on that glass-surrounded plinth in the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence.

They do say the great artist went personally to Carrara; to choose just the right marble for his masterworks. And so the raw resources were important. No one’s saying different. But, in the angles of the white stone, Michelangelo saw angels; and he chiseled until he released them into the air. Breaking symmetry for beauty’s sake.

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PseudoPod 467: Doc


Doc

by V.N. Winnick


It’s the first time they’re making me do it, and I’m giving the man a speech. One I’ve practiced in my head from the moment they told me what needed to be done.

“I’m not a doctor. I’ve got a bachelor’s degree in zoology. That’s the study of animals. I was pretty good with animal anatomy.

“I’ve never operated on a person, or anything living. You’re my first patient, and this is my first amputation. My hands are probably gonna shake. This is gonna be slow, and it’s gonna hurt a lot, because I’ll have to learn as I go. Other than that, no promises.

“You’re really, really sure you want me to do this?”

My head swivels about, looking at the rest of the group as I ask the question. I guess I want it to be a waiver; something to absolve me of responsibility when this whole, lunatic notion eventually goes pear-shaped, as I have no doubt that it will. To my complete astonishment, my “patient” nods, and says between shallow breaths, “Go for it, Doc.”

Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor by William Halsall

PseudoPod 466: Bad Newes from New England

Show Notes

the story payment will be donated to RUNNING STRONG, a Native American charity.


Bad Newes from New England

by Moaner T. Lawrence


This act of goodwill stirred great cheer in the people of New Plimouth and, with freshly raised spirits, they bade the Wampanoag enter; opened home and hearth in the spirit of God, and offered to share their modest bounty; whereupon the Wampanoag made entrance, each savage family pairing off with one of our own. I, Chief Massasoit, the chief’s bodyguards, Hobomok, Captain Standish, and Pastor Brewster removed to Mr. Allteron’s house in front of the corn fields. Two of the chief’s children also joined us: His eldest son Wamsutta, a man of twenty years who was often short of patience, and suspicious of all Europeans, and his gentle daughter Amie, a girl of sixteen years who was ever amicable toward everyone. (Continue Reading…)

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PseudoPod 465: Saturday


Saturday

by Evan Dicken


The city slept, unmindful of the doom creeping toward it at 61.38 meters per year.

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PseudoPod 464: Fear

Show Notes

“Who we are as a child defines who we will become as an adult, and never so much so as when we are afraid.”


Fear

by Sandra M. Odell


“I hear something downstairs. Denny, you go down the basement and check the door. Make sure it’s locked tight.”

Dennell Baker clutched the doorframe beneath the latch until he could feel his pulse in his fingertips. “Sorry. What?”

The realtor in her sensible blue pantsuit and blued hair, what his mother used to call “old white lady church hair”, paused. “I wondered if we could go downstairs and –”

That’s what he’d thought she’d said. “No.”

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PseudoPod 463: Favors From Hell


Favors From Hell

by Zachary T. Owen


When I was eight years old I choked on the smoke from my Uncle’s cigar as he drove me to the toy store. My two year old brother slept soundly, buckled into his child safety seat in the back of Ernie’s Desoto.

‘Before we get there I need a favor,’ Ernie said, his mouth wide and his eyes staring at my blouse. He pulled off the road and stopped the car in an alley. ‘It will only take a minute, just you see,’ he promised. He leaned back in his seat and let out a long breath. His cigar smoke filled the car and my lungs.

He was right. It didn’t take long.

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PseudoPod 462B: Halloween Parade 2015


The 2015 Halloween Parade

by Alasdair Stuart

 

The parade looks different this year.

There are floats, there are always floats, but they’re interspersed with individuals. People who either bring the audience’s attention or simply refuse to allow it to be anywhere else.

The first as always, is the woman in the suit and gloves and as always, she’s smiling.

No one can quite remember where she came from. There’s just a hint of motion and she’s there, smiling, patient, polite, never breaking eye contact… with anyone. (Continue Reading…)