PseudoPod logo

PseudoPod 465: Saturday


Saturday

by Evan Dicken


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

Pseudopod Default

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.”

Pseudopod Default

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.

PseudoPod logo

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…)

Pseudopod Default

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.”

 

Special art print for Artemis Rising 2


By now, you’re sure to have heard about Artemis Rising 2! It’s a special month-long event featuring stories by some of the best female and non-binary authors in genre fiction, airing across all the Escape Artists podcasts in February 2016.

We’re very pleased to announce that EA has commissioned a special art print for Artemis Rising 2 by none other than Galen Dara!

Galen likes monsters, mystics, and dead things. She has created art for Uncanny Magazine, 47North publishing, Skyscape Publishing, Fantasy Flight Games, Tyche Books, Fireside Magazine, Lightspeed, Lackington’s, and Resurrection House. She has been nominated for the Hugo, the World Fantasy Award, and the Chesley Award. When Galen is not working on a project you can find her on the edge of the Sonoran Desert, climbing mountains and hanging out with an assortment of human and animal companions. Her website is www.galendara.com plus you can find her on Facebook and Twitter @galendara.

Here’s an example of her wonderfully thoughtful pieces, included in the 2015 Spectrum Fantastic Art annual.

Pseudopod Default

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…)

PseudoPod logo

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._