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PseudoPod 023: Civilized Monsters


Civilized Monsters

by Johnny Compton

“You see that?” Randolph asked, referring to the dingy shard of bone within the bag. “Recognize it?”

Before Kyle could answer, a thump sounded through the ceiling.

Randolph looked up but kept the gun aimed at Kyle’s face. “Hanna? Is that you? It’s ten o’clock, I figured you’d be asleep by now. Why don’t you come downstairs–?”

“Hanna stay up there!” Kyle shouted. “Randolph’s down here with a gun and he’s lost his mind.?”

A second later, the red light on the base of the kitchen phone blinked.

“You’re going to call the police?” Randolph asked Hanna. “Go right ahead. I’m sure they’d be as interested as I am to know where you’re keeping the bodies.”

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PseudoPod 022: Them Eyes

Show Notes

What is time? Episode numbers are a construct of an uncaring world.


Them Eyes

by Nicholas Ozment

She’s standing in the kitchen. She’s on the phone. She’s got it to her right ear, ‘cuz pulpy head-juice is runnin’ down her left ear. She’s talking into the phone.

“Guess what your son-in-law did this time? He killed me.”

I grab the phone out of her gore-soaked hand, slam it down all sticky onto the receiver. I yell at her.

“You know what you just did?! You just signed your mother’s death warrant.”

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PseudoPod 021: Fetal Position


Fetal Position

by Joel Arnold

And now Rudy opened the box?s lid, his fingers responding to the familiarity of his name carved carefully into the top. He lifted the dried cord from it and placed it carefully in the water. It reacted to its new environment, expanding and uncoiling in the water?s warm comfort. He took a small penknife from his pant?s pocket and jabbed his middle finger. Small droplets of blood welled from the wound and he let them fall into the warm tap water. A few drops were all it needed.

The thing in the sink squirmed and writhed. He took off his shirt. Took a deep breath. Looked at himself in the mirror. Funny, the little surprises life tosses you, he thought.

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PseudoPod 020: What You Wish For


What You Wish For

by Stephen Dedman

Mara looked at the pictures, and smiled as she transformed into a clone-copy of the woman. “Nice,” she said, “very nice,” then turned around and looked up at Roy from between her legs. “Is this what you had in mind?” she asked, her hands on her lovely rump, opening herself to his view. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.” She giggled. “It’s even legal, and if it weren’t, I wouldn’t tell anybody. I won’t even scream, unless you want me to. Or do you want to spank me first?” He said nothing. “You teachers don’t get to do that any more, do you?”

“Why the Hell are you here?”

She looked innocent. “Don’t you know the saying? Never look a gift whore in the mouth.”

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PseudoPod 019: Through the Many Corridors


Through the Many Corridors

by Douglas F. Warrick

It was weird, wasn’t it? Weird how little it impressed him. It was an alien world, after all, a whole new planet, a landscape that held only a vague familiarity with the world he’d been born in, the atmosphere he’d inhaled for twenty-nine years. Maybe that’s it. It was just congruent enough to orient yourself, to fool yourself into thinking you were okay here. Up was up, down was down, you could breathe the air. But you weren’t okay here. You were drawn into this landscape by a different artist using a different pallet and a different technique and you just weren’t okay here.

Art took the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed up ahead. “Chalkie.”

It was at the very edge of the road with its long doughy fingers wrapped over the top of the metal barrier. Its skin was dry, dusty, cracked and curling like old paint, and dull white like chalk. Its tiny black eyes were set deep into its face, which was long and snoutish and bald. Even when nothing on this planet seemed to reflect the glow of that big red moon, the bleeding moon, those eyes picked it up like deep black wells.

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PseudoPod 018: Oranges, Lemons and Thou Beside Me


Oranges, Lemons and Thou Beside Me

By Eugie Foster

With fingers still lightly dusted with confectioner’s powder, Khloii reached for the I/O wire that would meld them together, letting them share the memories of the last eight years. As children, after their implants had been installed, the learning programs downloaded and processed, they had double interfaced mind-to-mind. Their minds so similar, forged together now by circuitry and wire, sharing sensation, thoughts, memories, and emotions, they had become closer than brother and sister, even twins of the same womb. They spent hours silently communing, at last not even trying to hide their obsession with each other. Sabin caught her hand before she could press the needle-thin plug into the port at the base of his skull. “You want to live eight years of war?”

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PseudoPod 017: Upon The Midnight Clear

Show Notes

Music provided by the HP Lovecraft Historical Society


Upon The Midnight Clear

By Stephen Dedman

She was mercifully quiet for a while, as though thinking of something to say. “Must be difficult, though, travelling on your own. Dangerous, even.”

I laughed, probably for the first time since the plane landed. I’d heard that too often before, too. “Dangerous? This place?” She looked and sounded sincere enough, though it was hard to be sure with that make-up and accent. “I teach jeet kune do and self-defence. The scariest thing I’ve seen since I got here was Phantom of the Opera. I admit, I didn’t actually plan to be making this trip alone, but my fiance dumped me in November, and I was stuck with the ticket. I’m enjoying it more than I expected. So, what have you got around here that’s dangerous? Serial killers? Or just drunks?”

She was silent for a moment. “Are you superstitious?”

I laughed. “I’m not even Californian.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“No.”

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PseudoPod 016: Medicinal

Show Notes

Today’s Sponsor:


Medicinal

by Peter King

When this first started I would scream or panic or even go for the window. The only thing I can do now is whisper.

To her. To me.

“That’s not the guy, Lorainne,” I say under my breath, but it does me no good because the thoughts keep coming.

–transverse cervical–

“Besides, you’re dead, Lorainne. And I’ll never find him. That guy over there… that’s not the guy.”

It does no good, because my head still goes all swimmy. Whatever is trapped up there… it can wait no more.