Archive for Stories

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 462: Flash On The Borderlands XXIX: Monsters

Show Notes

“Habeas Corpus” is original to PseudoPod.

“Monster” first appeared in Nameless Magazine, Issue 3, Spring 2014. “I got the idea while watching a documentary on the origins of fractals.”

“Stillborn” originally appeared in the first BORDERLANDS anthology from 1990 edited by Thomas F. Monteleone


“But the problem is to make the soul into a monster” – Arthur Rimbaud


Habeas Corpus

by Julia Watson

narrated by Kaitie Radel


Bottom of the breath, I aim and squeeze. CRACK. Mr. Johnson, our next-door neighbor, falls. Goes still. His noisy mutt, the one you hated, used to welcome me at the end of his chain with rough fur and a wet tongue to wash my salt away. I’m glad that dog’s not here.

Another. A woman—hard to tell who. I fire. As her ruined face explodes into mist, I whisper my thanks to the fool who built a gazebo on this ugly spit of land overlooking Rustridge Canyon—named for the five generations’ worth of scrap refuse the town tossed into it. You’d say I was crazy, boxing myself in, but alone, it’s the only way to get this done.


Monster

by Mike Allen

narrated by Ben Kohanski


Since I grew tall enough to sit at a classroom desk, I’ve longed to be a monster. There is no reason for this that you or your friends in the department will ever be able to find, should you have an opportunity to delve into my history. My mother and father loved each other. They were neither too lenient nor too strict. The bullies in my school, the ones who introduced my fellow gifted students to cycles of humiliation and pain, paid no attention to me at all. My teachers never singled me out for praise or discipline.


Stillborn

by Nina Kiriki Hoffman

narrated by Brian Rollins


Hugh found it in the shallow grave his mother had dug behind the house. He kept it wrapped in cotton above a heat register in the attic, where the dry warmth would preserve it without rotting it. Once it had mummified, he locked his bedroom door and took it out to look at, nights after his mother had gone to bed. When lie shook it, its brain rattled inside its tiny skull like a pea in a gourd. “Little brother,” he would whisper, staring into its sunken leathery face. “Little brother.”

 

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PseudoPod 461: Flash On The Borderlands XXVIII: Britshock II


Flash On The Borderlands XXVIII: Britshock II

by Severity Chase, Richard Kellum, Laura Lam, Andrew Reid, Taran Matharu, & Edward Cox

A gaggle of new Flash Fiction to warm your heart and chill your bones… (Continue Reading…)

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PseudoPod 460: Great Oak

Show Notes

Purchase your copy of Queers Destroy Horror! here: http://www.nightmare-magazine.com/ebooks/october-2015-issue-37-queers-destroy-horror/

Buy a copy of Hexed by Anders Manga here: https://andersmanga.bandcamp.com/


Great Oak

by Jason Rush


Rob swings the door of the old Ford pickup, and it squeaks before clunking shut. He puts a hand on the truck to steady himself. His tongue feels like someone crammed a wad of cotton in his mouth, soaked in whiskey and blood.

He flicks a glance at the back of the truck, then across the field to where the great oak stands on the hill, black against the midnight sky.

_I know,_ Rob thinks, looking away from the tree. _I know what I gotta do. Jus’ gimme a goddamn minute._

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PseudoPod 459: Flash On The Borderlands XXVII: What’s The Matter With Kids Today?

Show Notes

“Practially every one of the top 40 records being played on every radio station in the United States is a communication to the children to take a trip, to cop out, to groove. The psychedelic jackets on the record albums have their own hidden symbols and messages as well as the lyrics to all the top rock songs and they all sing the same refrain: its fun to take a trip, put acid in your veins.”

Art Linkletter


“Darwinism”: “I never had a gender in mind for either the narrator or the listener. Does it change the story a great deal if the narrator in particular is male or female?”

“The Last Bombardment”: “In 2013, I participated in Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam’s annual “Art and Words Show”, in which writers base new stories on works of visual art, and visual artists base new works on stories and poems. Bonnie gave me an arresting drawing by Kris Goto which showed an infant suspended by red balloons whose strings threaded through its head. This story was the result.”


Mother

by Lynette Mejía


Lucinda sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose. Another smoker, she thought, though the sign on the door was as clear as could be: a circle with a burning cigarette in its center, bisected by a thick, black line. The smell was faintly industrial, like burning chemicals. Annoying.

She lugged the heavy commercial vacuum cleaner into the room, plugging it into the nearest wall outlet and dragging it back and forth across the floor in a series of ever-widening, slightly overlapping strokes. As it slid beneath the bed, however, the ancient machine coughed and heaved, gasping like an end-stage emphysema patient. Turning it off with a sigh, Lucinda dropped to her knees and lifted the scratchy, floral coverlet hanging nearly to the floor.


Darwinism

by Rachel Verkade


Come here a moment. I want to talk to you about evolution.

Don’t be shy. It’s not that scary a subject, no matter what your local priest might tell you. It’s really very simple. The idea is that some creatures are born with “mutations”; new features that can be detrimental or advantageous to the animal. Say, for example, that at one time an antelope gives birth to a calf that has a slightly longer neck than its fellows. And because that calf has a longer neck, it is able to reach leaves that are higher in the trees. These leaves are more succulent, richer, and it does not have to fight with its herdmates to reach them. And so this animal has an easier time finding food, and thus becomes stronger and is better equipped to breed with the females. This long neck is passed on to its progeny, and each of them can reach these higher leaves as well, and so they too are better able to survive and breed. And so eventually a longer-necked male breeds with a longer-necked female, and their calf has a longer neck still, and an even greater advantage. This continues and continues through the generations, and millions of years later, you and I marvel over the beauty of Giraffa camelopardis, the African giraffe.


The Last Bombardment

by Kenneth Schneyer


Nobody noticed the first bombardment, not when it happened. It came at night without a sound. That was early in the war, and we were miles from the front; no one was watching for anything.

One morning we woke up, brewed our cups of coffee (there was coffee then), poured the cream, and took a sip while it was still hot, and went out to search the bushes and ravine for badly thrown newspapers. For most of us, that was all that happened. But a few, maybe fifty or sixty, found toddlers on our doorsteps.