Posts Tagged ‘funeral’

PseudoPod 724: Flash on the Borderlands LIII: What Dreams May Come

Show Notes

“The Funeral Coat” is a PseudoPod original.

“Cherry Wood Coffin” first appeared in Apex on May 29, 2018

“Grave Mother” was first published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal and The Best of Vine Leaves Literary Journal, 2014.

Alasdair Birthday List (because why not, right?)
Story notes:
Spoiler Inside SelectShow

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.


The Funeral Coat

by Lyndsie Manusos

narrated by Carlie Bergey


When I was five, my grandmother took me to Macy’s to buy my first funeral coat. It’s tradition in my family to have a separate coat for funerals. Something black, sleek, with sharp edges and elaborate buttons. A coat with high collars, to hide our pulse and the tender arc of throat to shoulder. By the end of the day I was crying, exhausted from trying on dozens of coats. My grandmother had to carry me out of the store with the coat she chose wrapped in tissue paper under her arm.

Grandmother bribed me back to calm with a frosted cookie at a nearby bakery.

“It’s a sensible matter,” she said while I stuffed myself. “Only wear it to funerals and on holy or sacred ground.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Different coats for different weather,” she said. “You wouldn’t wear a rain coat in a snowstorm. Don’t wear your funeral coat to a birthday party.”

Perfect logic for our family. Later on I discovered not every family took funeral coats so seriously, or even owned funeral coats, for that matter. Nor did people go to as many funerals as we did. (Continue Reading…)

PseudoPod 354: The Eulogy Of Darien Meek

Show Notes

Music under Shawn’s message is “Happy Birthday Chopin Ballade” by Mario Ajero, from Music Alley.


The Eulogy Of Darien Meek

by Niccolo Skill


“Thank you for coming,” the usher said and held the door for the latest guest. Tom nodded and mouthed a ‘thank you’ but didn’t feel it in him to say the actual words. A time and place for everything, after all.

Twin dark wood doors opened up to a high-ceiling-ed main room. The windows were stained half the colors of the rainbow. The room was awash in vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows. A splash of green dotted the refreshment table and the faintest lines of blue hung over the altar. A faint musky smell, not quite strong enough to be offensive, wafted out the door.

Clusters of relatives milled about, exchanging the usual family gossip. Tom tucked himself into the corner by the restrooms.