British Fantasy Award Shortlist 2021!

The British Fantasy Society shortlist has been announced, revealing that both PseudoPod and PodCastle have both been nominated under the Best Audio category! We are honored to share a list with a number of truly stunning artists, not just on the audio shortlist, but the entire list of British Fantasy Award nominees.

Also a PodCastle story is up for Best Short Fiction: John Wiswell’s 8-Bit Free Will (PodCastle 654)

I guess we’re at the Dream Master now or maybe The Return of Michael Myers.  Look, we have been nominated each year that the Best Audio category has been available.  Every year.  So this means if we lose, we fill out our punch card and get FREE TACOS.  And we love tacos.  But a win would be nice.  Either us or PodCastle. Or both. Why not both? After all, since when do dragons and nameless horrors follow rules?

And while you’re at it, give an win to our Hostus Mostus Alasdair’s weekly pop culture newsletter, The Full Lid, for Best Nonfiction

Please join us in congratulating our hardworking editorial teams on this awesome recognition.

The British Fantasy Awards are typically presented each year at Fantasycon, which (plague willing) will take place in Birmingham, England in September.

PseudoPod 767: Death Has Red Hair

Death Has Red Hair

by Greye La Spina

We three men were hugging the open fire closely. The raw chill of that November night had closed in around us and the blazing logs yielded grateful warmth.

Peter Murray was leaning forward in his chair, looking absentmindedly into the leaping flames that sent flickering shadows to dancing on the walls behind us. Hank Walters was staring at Peter and I was watching both my guests with curious speculation that had risen in me since that afternoon’s encounter.

I could have sworn that Hank’s black eyes held an expression at once envious and inimical as he bent his gaze sourly on Peter’s handsome, perplexed young face. I was both dismayed and sorry, for the older man possessed a weapon that might cut the brightness out of Peter’s life; Magda Farrar was his. foster-daughter and his ward, and to young Peter she symbolized and embodied everything desirable in life.

“Come out of it, you two,” growled I, irritated and uneasy at their silence. “This is a shooting party, not a wake.”

Peter’s bright blue eyes turned from the fire. He met my gaze and chuckled. (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 766: Knock, Knock, Wolf

Knock, Knock, Wolf

by P.G. Galalis

It was time to kill the sparrows.

Every autumn, after the last leaves fell and the bare trees rattled their bone song to an empty sky, the widow Clarabel started baking. Five parts flour, three parts water, a pinch of salt and emptins for leavening, plus a handful of the devil’s blend, finely ground. She would let the loaf go stale for a day, then scatter it about the field between her cottage and the forest.

A knock on the door was the worst sound in the world if you asked Clarabel, when beggars and travelers and all kinds of wretched, needy folk would flee winter in the high peaks. Fortunately, Clarabel had discovered that a lone cottage in a field of dead sparrows seldom received any visitors.  (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 765: The Child Feast of Harridan Sack

The Child-Feast of Harridan Sack

By Kaitlyn Zivanovich

I plant a whisper in my daughter’s hair when her shoulders shake and hunch up to her ears. It’s only a story, I say. I turn the page; I’ve resolved her fears. It’s only a story. That is what mothers say to their daughters. 

What kind of comfort is that?

It’s not a reassurance, or a consolation.

It’s a warning.

It’s a story, child. Pay attention, it is a story. (Continue Reading…)