Pseudopod http://pseudopod.org The Sound of Horror. Pseudopod is the world\'s first audio horror magazine. We deliver bone-chilling stories from today\'s most talented authors straight to your computer or MP3 player. Fri, 10 Feb 2012 04:01:52 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.5.1 en ©Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart editor@pseudopod.org (Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart) editor@pseudopod.org(Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart) horror fiction 1440 horror, short stories, stories, storytelling, scary, horror stories, fiction The Sound of Horror The Sound of Horror. Pseudopod is the world\'s first audio horror magazine. We deliver bone-chilling stories from today\'s most talented authors straight to your computer or MP3 player. Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart Ben Phillips & Alasdair Stuart editor@pseudopod.org No yes http://pseudopod.org/images/250x250.jpg Pseudopod http://pseudopod.org 144 144 Pseudopod 268: Let There Be Darkness http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/xSC-gnE4Jww/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/02/10/pseudopod-268-let-there-be-darkness/#comments Fri, 10 Feb 2012 04:01:52 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=382 by Mike Allen

Click his name to visit his website, DESCENT INTO LIGHT. Mike is also editor of the critically acclaimed CLOCKWORK PHOENIX anthology series and the long-running poetry journal MYTHIC DELERIUM. This story first appeared in Penny Dreadful, and was reprinted in the anthology THE BIBLE OF HELL and Mike’s poetry collection STRANGE WISDOMS OF THE DEAD. He is planning a collection of his horror stories, including this tale and previous Pseudopod submissions “The Button Bin” and “The Blessed Days”.



Read by Christiana Ellis, who recently read “Plus Or Minus” for ESCAPE POD.



“A day will come when the sun’s pale yellow stare starts to fill with the taint of blood.

Among the confused and tremulous hordes of mankind, amidst the endless processions of grand towers forged from metal stolen from the moon, I will walk. One knowing face, one unique being traversing the rivers of humanity that flood this world.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/02/10/pseudopod-268-let-there-be-darkness/feed/ 27:24 by Mike Allen Click his name to visit his website, DESCENT INTO LIGHT. Mike is also editor of the critically acclaimed CLOCKWORK PHOENIX anthology series ... by Mike Allen Click his name to visit his website, DESCENT INTO LIGHT. Mike is also editor of the critically acclaimed CLOCKWORK PHOENIX anthology series and the long-running poetry journal MYTHIC DELERIUM. This story first appeared in Penny Dreadful, and was reprinted in the anthology THE BIBLE OF HELL and Mike's poetry collection STRANGE WISDOMS OF THE DEAD. He is planning a collection of his horror stories, including this tale and previous Pseudopod submissions "The Button Bin" and "The Blessed Days". Read by Christiana Ellis, who recently read "Plus Or Minus" for ESCAPE POD. "A day will come when the sunrsquo;s pale yellow stare starts to fill with the taint of blood. Among the confused and tremulous hordes of mankind, amidst the endless processions of grand towers forged from metal stolen from the moon, I will walk. One knowing face, one unique being traversing the rivers of humanity that flood this world." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Allen yes No http://pseudopod.org/2012/02/10/pseudopod-268-let-there-be-darkness/ Pseudopod 267: Mentor http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/2_zdj2eB7XI/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/02/03/pseudopod-267-mentor/#comments Fri, 03 Feb 2012 04:01:20 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=380 by Sean Eads

Sean has two novels coming out in 2012 - THE SURVIVORS is coming this fall from Lethe Press, and a suspense novel, TRIGGER POINT, coming in March from a new publisher called Musa Publishing. He also has a story upcoming in Bruce Bethke’s STUPEFYING STORIES from Rampant Loon Press

Read by Mark E. Phair, who last read “The Line” for Pseudopod.

“I recovered myself with difficulty. I was in my mentor’s house. I stood here uninvited but nevertheless I stood here. Understanding the opportunity, my attention burst outward in glances both rapid and greedy. I took in everything, finding the details of corners, seeking every scrap of intimate but banal information about the man. People might think this insane—I had after all worked closely with my mentor for a decade and a half, giving him my poems for his unsparing critiques, listening and agreeing to his thoughts on literature, attending his seminars and readings, making his friends my friends. I still was not good enough. I had never published anything but I kept at it. I was poor and I wrote about poverty. “You are poor,” my mentor would say, “but you have not suffered.” I was lonely and I wrote about loneliness. “Yes, you are lonely,” my mentor confirmed, “but loneliness is not suffering.” Gradually this became the sum of his critique. At the bottom of each returned poem he scribbled: “You still have not suffered.” I felt I would never understand. I looked about this room now as if it would tell me how to feel the anguish that clearly my mentor felt, the despair that made him so superior a poet. How could his kitchen tell me more about him than his verse, which was so confessional, so full of agony and torment, like a man imprisoned in his own flesh? What was knowledge of his plates and silverware in comparison? What could his dirty dishes tell me about his soul?”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/02/03/pseudopod-267-mentor/feed/ 28:05 by Sean Eads Sean has two novels coming out in 2012 - THE SURVIVORS is coming this fall from Lethe Press, and a suspense novel, TRIGGER ... by Sean Eads Sean has two novels coming out in 2012 - THE SURVIVORS is coming this fall from Lethe Press, and a suspense novel, TRIGGER POINT, coming in March from a new publisher called Musa Publishing. He also has a story upcoming in Bruce Bethke's STUPEFYING STORIES from Rampant Loon Press Read by Mark E. Phair, who last read "The Line" for Pseudopod. "I recovered myself with difficulty. I was in my mentorrsquo;s house. I stood here uninvited but nevertheless I stood here. Understanding the opportunity, my attention burst outward in glances both rapid and greedy. I took in everything, finding the details of corners, seeking every scrap of intimate but banal information about the man. People might think this insanemdash;I had after all worked closely with my mentor for a decade and a half, giving him my poems for his unsparing critiques, listening and agreeing to his thoughts on literature, attending his seminars and readings, making his friends my friends. I still was not good enough. I had never published anything but I kept at it. I was poor and I wrote about poverty. ldquo;You are poor,rdquo; my mentor would say, ldquo;but you have not suffered.rdquo; I was lonely and I wrote about loneliness. ldquo;Yes, you are lonely,rdquo; my mentor confirmed, ldquo;but loneliness is not suffering.rdquo; Gradually this became the sum of his critique. At the bottom of each returned poem he scribbled: ldquo;You still have not suffered.rdquo; I felt I would never understand. I looked about this room now as if it would tell me how to feel the anguish that clearly my mentor felt, the despair that made him so superior a poet. How could his kitchen tell me more about him than his verse, which was so confessional, so full of agony and torment, like a man imprisoned in his own flesh? What was knowledge of his plates and silverware in comparison? What could his dirty dishes tell me about his soul?" horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Eads yes No http://pseudopod.org/2012/02/03/pseudopod-267-mentor/ Pseudopod 266: This Is Now http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/GmM13KVyyuo/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/27/pseudopod-266-this-is-now/#comments Fri, 27 Jan 2012 04:01:36 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=379 by Michael Marshall Smith

Click his name for his home page. The story can be read here at the BBCi Cult website. It originally appeared in THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF BEST NEW HORROR 16 (2005), BY BLOOD WE LIVE (2009) and the author’s collection THIS IS NOW (2007).

Read by Steve Anderson.

“‘If you were seeing the fence for the first time, you’d likely wonder at the straightness of it, the way in which the concrete posts had been planted at ten yard intervals deep into the rock. You might ask yourself if national forests normally went to these lengths, and you’d soon remember they didn’t, that for the most part a cheerful little wooden sign by the side of the road was all that was judged to be required. If you kept on walking deeper, intrigued, sooner or later you’d see a notice attached to one of the posts. The notices are small, designed to convey authority rather than draw attention.

NO TRESPASSING, they say. MILITARY LAND.

That could strike you as a little strange, perhaps, because you might have believed that most of the marked-off areas were down over in the moonscapes of Nevada, rather than up here at the quiet Northeast corner of Washington State. But who knows what the military’s up to, right? Apart from protecting us from foreign aggressors, of course, and The Terrorist Threat, and if that means they need a few acres to themselves then that’s actually kind of comforting. The army moves in mysterious ways, our freedoms to defend. Good for them, you’d think, and you’d likely turn and head back for town, having had enough of tramping through snow for the day. In the evening you’d come into Ruby’s and eat hearty, some of my wings or a burger or the brisket - which, though I say so myself, isn’t half bad. Next morning you’d drive back South.

I remember when the fences went up. Thirty years ago. 1985. Our parents knew what they were for. Hell, we were only eight and we knew.”



This podcast uses these wind and pool sounds from from Freesound.

“Wind” by Batuhan

“Wind2″ by Sagetyrtle

“Pool shot” by Cameronmusic

“Ae.Billiard Ball Rolling” by Bunyi

“Pool balls” by Bsumusictech

“Pool Break” by AaHanson

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/27/pseudopod-266-this-is-now/feed/ 37:14 by Michael Marshall Smith Click his name for his home page. The story can be read here at the BBCi Cult website. It originally appeared ... by Michael Marshall Smith Click his name for his home page. The story can be read here at the BBCi Cult website. It originally appeared in THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF BEST NEW HORROR 16 (2005), BY BLOOD WE LIVE (2009) and the author's collection THIS IS NOW (2007). Read by Steve Anderson. "'If you were seeing the fence for the first time, you'd likely wonder at the straightness of it, the way in which the concrete posts had been planted at ten yard intervals deep into the rock. You might ask yourself if national forests normally went to these lengths, and you'd soon remember they didn't, that for the most part a cheerful little wooden sign by the side of the road was all that was judged to be required. If you kept on walking deeper, intrigued, sooner or later you'd see a notice attached to one of the posts. The notices are small, designed to convey authority rather than draw attention. NO TRESPASSING, they say. MILITARY LAND. That could strike you as a little strange, perhaps, because you might have believed that most of the marked-off areas were down over in the moonscapes of Nevada, rather than up here at the quiet Northeast corner of Washington State. But who knows what the military's up to, right? Apart from protecting us from foreign aggressors, of course, and The Terrorist Threat, and if that means they need a few acres to themselves then that's actually kind of comforting. The army moves in mysterious ways, our freedoms to defend. Good for them, you'd think, and you'd likely turn and head back for town, having had enough of tramping through snow for the day. In the evening you'd come into Ruby's and eat hearty, some of my wings or a burger or the brisket - which, though I say so myself, isn't half bad. Next morning you'd drive back South. I remember when the fences went up. Thirty years ago. 1985. Our parents knew what they were for. Hell, we were only eight and we knew." This podcast uses these wind and pool sounds from from Freesound. "Wind" by Batuhan "Wind2" by Sagetyrtle "Pool shot" by Cameronmusic "Ae.Billiard Ball Rolling" by Bunyi "Pool balls" by Bsumusictech "Pool Break" by AaHanson horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Smith yes No http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/27/pseudopod-266-this-is-now/ Pseudopod 198: The Mother and the Worm http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/pthFqwSsers/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/11/pseudopod-198-the-mother-and-the-worm/#comments Fri, 11 Jun 2010 05:01:26 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=283 By Tim W. Burke

Read by Paul S. Jenkins, author of The Plitone Revisionist

We were in our places, Olivia at the door and I in the wicker basket. The windows were concealed with heavy curtains to keep out the afternoon sun, but oil lamps pushed back the gloom.

The lady who entered our study first was the old friend of Olivia’s family, who embraced Olivia, then introduced her guests. The other matron wore black; she was the hopeful patron. The men were both young, one balding and mustached and the other dark and intense. They were surprised by her frank smile, by her firm handclasp, and they smirked.

The basket that hid me was a cubit square. Within it, I sat naked on a thin cotton mat, waiting for my cue.

For the preceding installment in this story, please check out “The Garden And The Mirror”

For the next installment, proceed to “Nourished By Chaff, We Believe The Glamor”, part of the Trio of Terror.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/11/pseudopod-198-the-mother-and-the-worm/feed/ 36:10 By Tim W. Burke Read by Paul S. Jenkins, author of The Plitone Revisionist We were in our places, Olivia at the door and I in the ... By Tim W. Burke Read by Paul S. Jenkins, author of The Plitone Revisionist We were in our places, Olivia at the door and I in the wicker basket. The windows were concealed with heavy curtains to keep out the afternoon sun, but oil lamps pushed back the gloom. The lady who entered our study first was the old friend of Oliviarsquo;s family, who embraced Olivia, then introduced her guests. The other matron wore black; she was the hopeful patron. The men were both young, one balding and mustached and the other dark and intense. They were surprised by her frank smile, by her firm handclasp, and they smirked. The basket that hid me was a cubit square. Within it, I sat naked on a thin cotton mat, waiting for my cue. For the preceding installment in this story, please check out "The Garden And The Mirror" For the next installment, proceed to "Nourished By Chaff, We Believe The Glamor", part of the Trio of Terror. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Tim W. Burke no No http://pseudopod.org/2010/06/11/pseudopod-198-the-mother-and-the-worm/ Pseudopod 182: The Dreaming Way http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/bzLCBbQ45Gs/ http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/18/slight-delay-on-pseudopod-182/#comments Thu, 18 Feb 2010 23:23:09 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=264 By Jim Bihyeh

Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of the Teknikal Diffikulties podcast

Her teachers never asked her to remove the headphones. What was the point? The girl earned a 100% on every quiz and exam, and when they called on her, Lynnette spat the answer back like a rifle ejecting a shell.

“The girl just has a way with tests,” her teachers repeated. “She knows how to prepare.”

But Lynette caught a lot of shit for her test grades. Part of the Navajo culture said that you weren’t supposed to stand out from the group. But Lynette already stood out.

“Lynette, Lyn-Ette! Teacher’s Pet!” went the usual recess refrain. “Lynette, Lyn-Ette! Teacher’s Pet! About as tall as a jumbo jet!”

And Lynette was tall. She towered past six feet by the time she reached eighth grade. And her long black hair that she rarely brushed only made her seem taller when it fell down over her wide shoulders; she was heavy-set, truly big-boned, more muscle than fat. And she put that muscle to use during the “Lynette Incidents,” as they came to be called.

For further Coyote Tales, please check out:

Reservation Monsters
“Love Like Thunder”
and “The Shooting Way” in “The Trio Of Terror”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/18/slight-delay-on-pseudopod-182/feed/ 34:57 By Jim Bihyeh Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of the Teknikal Diffikulties podcast Her teachers never asked her to remove the headphones. What was the point? The ... By Jim Bihyeh Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of the Teknikal Diffikulties podcast Her teachers never asked her to remove the headphones. What was the point? The girl earned a 100% on every quiz and exam, and when they called on her, Lynnette spat the answer back like a rifle ejecting a shell. ldquo;The girl just has a way with tests,rdquo; her teachers repeated. ldquo;She knows how to prepare.rdquo; But Lynette caught a lot of shit for her test grades. Part of the Navajo culture said that you werenrsquo;t supposed to stand out from the group. But Lynette already stood out. ldquo;Lynette, Lyn-Ette! Teacherrsquo;s Pet!rdquo; went the usual recess refrain. ldquo;Lynette, Lyn-Ette! Teacherrsquo;s Pet! About as tall as a jumbo jet!rdquo; And Lynette was tall. She towered past six feet by the time she reached eighth grade. And her long black hair that she rarely brushed only made her seem taller when it fell down over her wide shoulders; she was heavy-set, truly big-boned, more muscle than fat. And she put that muscle to use during the ldquo;Lynette Incidents,rdquo; as they came to be called. For further Coyote Tales, please check out: Reservation Monsters "Love Like Thunder" and "The Shooting Way" in "The Trio Of Terror" Podcasts,,Reviews,,Stories Jim Bihyeh yes No http://pseudopod.org/2010/02/18/slight-delay-on-pseudopod-182/ Pseudopod 167: Love Like Thunder http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/2L5YX4LDS3c/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/11/06/pseudopod-167-love-like-thunder/#comments Fri, 06 Nov 2009 04:01:06 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=246 By Jim Bihyeh

Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of Teknikal Diffikulties

After he pitched his nylon tent in a nearby juniper grove at the base of the hill, he slept until moonrise. Then, under the pale light, he unfolded his steel trench-shovel and walked uphill toward the cemetery, looking for love.

Three fresh granite tombstones glinted with new sand mounded before them; the last resting place for three of the Ganado students killed that week. Dondo noted them as he searched for older love. Deeper love.

He found it at a medium-sized granite tombstone next to a clump of rabbit brush. The name read: “Elinore Tsosie,” born April 19 1933, died November 18, 2004. 71 years old. Perfect.

Dondo squatted over his haunches beside the grave, holding his hands over the sandy earth like he was warming himself beside a campfire. He pinched sand from the base of the tombstone, tasted it, then spat to the north. Here was love. He dug.

For further Coyote Tales, please check out:

Reservation Monsters

“The Dreaming Way”

and “The Shooting Way” in “The Trio Of Terror”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2009/11/06/pseudopod-167-love-like-thunder/feed/ 45:04 By Jim Bihyeh Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of Teknikal Diffikulties After he pitched his nylon tent in a nearby juniper grove at the base of the hill, ... By Jim Bihyeh Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy of Teknikal Diffikulties After he pitched his nylon tent in a nearby juniper grove at the base of the hill, he slept until moonrise. Then, under the pale light, he unfolded his steel trench-shovel and walked uphill toward the cemetery, looking for love. Three fresh granite tombstones glinted with new sand mounded before them; the last resting place for three of the Ganado students killed that week. Dondo noted them as he searched for older love. Deeper love. He found it at a medium-sized granite tombstone next to a clump of rabbit brush. The name read: ldquo;Elinore Tsosie,rdquo; born April 19 1933, died November 18, 2004. 71 years old. Perfect. Dondo squatted over his haunches beside the grave, holding his hands over the sandy earth like he was warming himself beside a campfire. He pinched sand from the base of the tombstone, tasted it, then spat to the north. Here was love. He dug. For further Coyote Tales, please check out: Reservation Monsters "The Dreaming Way" and "The Shooting Way" in "The Trio Of Terror" horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Jim Bihyeh yes No http://pseudopod.org/2009/11/06/pseudopod-167-love-like-thunder/ Pseudopod 127: The Garden and the Mirror http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/8STYwObwg0Y/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/01/30/pseudopod-127-the-garden-and-the-mirror/#comments Fri, 30 Jan 2009 04:01:39 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=193 By Tim W. Burke

Read by Alasdair Stuart

She asked me, “Will you teach the secrets of the soul and flesh?”

Her eyes glowed like onyx in the gaslight. Her skin seemed translucent, but the young man fidgeting beside her on my drawing room sofa was paler still. His fine suit and shirt sagged on him; the cadaver in him emerging.

The young man blanched at her boldness, “My wife has always been an enthusiast for mysticism. Back home in Atlanta, we tried homeopathy, faith healing, and God knows how many quacks. But the tumor grows. My fevers are getting worse. I can’t even travel home because my head aches –”

“Mr. Alecsandri,” the young woman, Olivia Spalding, leaned to me, “Our friends here told us that you cured their little boy of consumption.”

“I remember the case. I taught the boy to banish it.”

For the follow-up to this story, please check out “The Mother And The Worm”

and then proceed to “Nourished By Chaff, We Believe The Glamor”, part of the Trio of Terror.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2009/01/30/pseudopod-127-the-garden-and-the-mirror/feed/ 16:36 By Tim W. Burke Read by Alasdair Stuart She asked me, "Will you teach the secrets of the soul and flesh?" Her eyes glowed like onyx in the ... By Tim W. Burke Read by Alasdair Stuart She asked me, "Will you teach the secrets of the soul and flesh?" Her eyes glowed like onyx in the gaslight. Her skin seemed translucent, but the young man fidgeting beside her on my drawing room sofa was paler still. His fine suit and shirt sagged on him; the cadaver in him emerging. The young man blanched at her boldness, "My wife has always been an enthusiast for mysticism. Back home in Atlanta, we tried homeopathy, faith healing, and God knows how many quacks. But the tumor grows. My fevers are getting worse. I canrsquo;t even travel home because my head aches --" "Mr. Alecsandri," the young woman, Olivia Spalding, leaned to me, "Our friends here told us that you cured their little boy of consumption." "I remember the case. I taught the boy to banish it." For the follow-up to this story, please check out "The Mother And The Worm" and then proceed to "Nourished By Chaff, We Believe The Glamor", part of the Trio of Terror. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Tim W. Burke no No http://pseudopod.org/2009/01/30/pseudopod-127-the-garden-and-the-mirror/ Pseudopod 131: Tales of the White Street Society - The Corpse Army of Khartoum http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/hBytP6DIR0k/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/02/27/pseudopod-131-tales-of-the-white-street-society-the-corpse-army-of-khartoum/#comments Fri, 27 Feb 2009 15:44:43 +0000 Alasdair http://pseudopod.org/?p=199 By Grady Hendrix

Read by Alasdair Stuart

It had been some time since we had last been called to a meeting of the White Street Society and all of us yearned to quench the thirst for the strange that these meetings had fostered in our souls, which is why the three of us – Drake, Lewis and myself – finally abandoned formality and stopped by the clubhouse uninvited, fully expecting Augustus to be absent, overseas perhaps, investigating some mysterious mystery. Instead, we stood frozen in surprise and dripping with February rain in the doorway of the clubroom, watching our old friend sitting by the fire and reading the papers, as cool as an oyster.

“Augustus,” cried Drake. “What are you doing here?”

“And where’s Charles?,” said Lewis, as an unfamiliar manservant helped him off with his overcoat.
For further adventures of THE WHITE STREET SOCIETY, please check out:

“Tales Of The White Street Society”.

and “The Yellow Curse” in THE TRIO OF TERROR.



This week’s episode sponsored by Audible.com, who offers you a free audiobook download of your choice from their selection of over 40,000 titles.



]]> http://pseudopod.org/2009/02/27/pseudopod-131-tales-of-the-white-street-society-the-corpse-army-of-khartoum/feed/ 43:42 By Grady Hendrix Read by Alasdair Stuart It had been some time since we had last been called to a meeting of the White Street Society and ... By Grady Hendrix Read by Alasdair Stuart It had been some time since we had last been called to a meeting of the White Street Society and all of us yearned to quench the thirst for the strange that these meetings had fostered in our souls, which is why the three of us ndash; Drake, Lewis and myself ndash; finally abandoned formality and stopped by the clubhouse uninvited, fully expecting Augustus to be absent, overseas perhaps, investigating some mysterious mystery. Instead, we stood frozen in surprise and dripping with February rain in the doorway of the clubroom, watching our old friend sitting by the fire and reading the papers, as cool as an oyster. "Augustus," cried Drake. "What are you doing here?" "And where's Charles?," said Lewis, as an unfamiliar manservant helped him off with his overcoat. For further adventures of THE WHITE STREET SOCIETY, please check out: "Tales Of The White Street Society". and "The Yellow Curse" in THE TRIO OF TERROR. This week's episode sponsored by Audible.com, who offers you a free audiobook download of your choice from their selection of over 40,000 titles. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Grady Hendrix yes No http://pseudopod.org/2009/02/27/pseudopod-131-tales-of-the-white-street-society-the-corpse-army-of-khartoum/ Pseudopod 76: Tales of the White Street Society http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/hdbKqZve4u8/ http://pseudopod.org/2008/02/08/pseudopod-76-tales-of-the-white-street-society/#comments Fri, 08 Feb 2008 04:01:20 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/2008/02/08/pseudopod-76-tales-of-the-white-street-society/ By Grady Hendrix

Read by Alasdair Stuart

A creak of the flooring caught my attention and I turned sharply, expecting to find my guide creeping up behind me with a jackblack in her hand and murder in her Irish eyes. Instead, I beheld a waif with a waxen pallor, protruding bones and papery skin, crouching just inside the doorway. Her furtive creeping was arrested when she saw me. Rising up to her full height she fixed her watery eyes on me and said:

“Harry don’t like you.”

Just as I was about to strike her for her insolence, her face slackened and she swooned. I stepped forward to catch her, then noticed spittle running from her mouth, and stepped back so as to avoid soiling my clothes.

For further adventures of THE WHITE STREET SOCIETY, please check out:

“The Corpse Army of Khartoum”

and “The Yellow Curse” in THE TRIO OF TERROR.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2008/02/08/pseudopod-76-tales-of-the-white-street-society/feed/ 36:45 By Grady Hendrix Read by Alasdair Stuart A creak of the flooring caught my attention and I turned sharply, expecting to find my guide creeping up behind ... By Grady Hendrix Read by Alasdair Stuart A creak of the flooring caught my attention and I turned sharply, expecting to find my guide creeping up behind me with a jackblack in her hand and murder in her Irish eyes. Instead, I beheld a waif with a waxen pallor, protruding bones and papery skin, crouching just inside the doorway. Her furtive creeping was arrested when she saw me. Rising up to her full height she fixed her watery eyes on me and said: "Harry don't like you." Just as I was about to strike her for her insolence, her face slackened and she swooned. I stepped forward to catch her, then noticed spittle running from her mouth, and stepped back so as to avoid soiling my clothes. For further adventures of THE WHITE STREET SOCIETY, please check out: "The Corpse Army of Khartoum" and "The Yellow Curse" in THE TRIO OF TERROR. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Grady Hendrix yes No http://pseudopod.org/2008/02/08/pseudopod-76-tales-of-the-white-street-society/ Pseudopod 159: Reservation Monsters http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/ZAoJErFM8zk/ http://pseudopod.org/2009/09/11/pseudopod-159-reservation-monsters/#comments Fri, 11 Sep 2009 04:01:21 +0000 Ben Phillips http://pseudopod.org/?p=237 By Jim Bihyeh

Read by Ben Phillips

“When I was your age, I ran away from school all the time. The tribal police would gather all us kids up from the hogans and the cabins, haul us to the boarding schools, cut our hair, tell us not to talk Navajo, feed us flour with bugs in it. All that crap you hear about now in documentaries. I ran away to my auntie’s house near Canyon de Chelly. She was a seer and a hand trembler. The Navajos around there, if they couldn’t sleep or they were sick, they sent a runner to my auntie and she came with her rock crystal and her corn pollen and went over their home until her hand trembled like she was holding on to an electric fence. And she saw things. Visions no one else could see. The sort of visions you’re seeing now. The things that cause sickness. Death. Things that have to be dealt with. Things that have to be sung and prayed over, so the person can be healthy again.”

For further Coyote Tales, please check out:

“Love Like Thunder”
“The Dreaming Way”
and “The Shooting Way” in “The Trio Of Terror”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2009/09/11/pseudopod-159-reservation-monsters/feed/ 33:32 By Jim Bihyeh Read by Ben Phillips "When I was your age, I ran away from school all the time. The tribal police would gather all us ... By Jim Bihyeh Read by Ben Phillips "When I was your age, I ran away from school all the time. The tribal police would gather all us kids up from the hogans and the cabins, haul us to the boarding schools, cut our hair, tell us not to talk Navajo, feed us flour with bugs in it. All that crap you hear about now in documentaries. I ran away to my auntie's house near Canyon de Chelly. She was a seer and a hand trembler. The Navajos around there, if they couldn't sleep or they were sick, they sent a runner to my auntie and she came with her rock crystal and her corn pollen and went over their home until her hand trembled like she was holding on to an electric fence. And she saw things. Visions no one else could see. The sort of visions you're seeing now. The things that cause sickness. Death. Things that have to be dealt with. Things that have to be sung and prayed over, so the person can be healthy again." For further Coyote Tales, please check out: "Love Like Thunder" "The Dreaming Way" and "The Shooting Way" in "The Trio Of Terror" Podcasts,,Stories Jim Bihyeh no No http://pseudopod.org/2009/09/11/pseudopod-159-reservation-monsters/ Pseudopod 265: Biba Jibun http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/rnqNiMpkATU/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/20/pseudopod-265-biba-jibun/#comments Fri, 20 Jan 2012 04:01:50 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=378 by Eugie Foster

Click her name for her home page, or visit her blog on the same site. This story originally appeared in issue #23 of Apex Magazine. Eugie’s newest story collection, RETURNING MY SISTER’S FACE AND OTHER FAR EASTERN TALES OF WHIMSY AND MALICE is published by Norilana Books and is available for Kindle, Nook and ePpub, iPad, PDF, Palm (PDB) and Sony (LRF).

Read by Kara Grace, who also read “Braiding The Ghosts” for PODCASTLE.

“‘When the train arrived, it was jammed with commuters: students, salarymen, and office ladies. I squeezed into the last car, and more bodies pushed in behind me. My stomach churned, assaulted by cloying perfume, stale cigarette smoke, and sour sweat.

I was so intent upon not being sick that at first I didn’t notice that somewhere between Shibuya and Harajuko stations, a man’s hand had settled on my leg. Surrounded by blank-faced commuters, wedged so tightly I couldn’t move, I had no idea who it belonged to. As the train jostled along, the hand slipped higher, burning a sweat-slick trail from knee to thigh. At the next juddering stop, my agitated insides heaved, and I shoved free from the car. I fled into the closest ladies? toilet to throw up. Stomach as empty and deflated as my spirits, I splashed water on my face, trying not to cry.

The door opened, and a girl in a school uniform identical to mine stepped to the sink beside me. She pulled a glittering gold bag embossed with distinctive Louis Vuitton monograms out of her schoolbag. After dumping an array of makeup on the counter, she proceeded to sketch in her eyebrows with a dark pencil.

‘I saw what happened, you know.” Her voice was low and rich. “You’re supposed to yell ‘chikan’ when they grope you. Everyone says train perverts make them want to puke, but you’re the first I’ve seen who really has. You must be new to Tokyo.’”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/20/pseudopod-265-biba-jibun/feed/ 47:30 by Eugie Foster Click her name for her home page, or visit her blog on the same site. This story originally appeared in issue #23 of Apex ... by Eugie Foster Click her name for her home page, or visit her blog on the same site. This story originally appeared in issue #23 of Apex Magazine. Eugie's newest story collection, RETURNING MY SISTER'S FACE AND OTHER FAR EASTERN TALES OF WHIMSY AND MALICE is published by Norilana Books and is available for Kindle, Nook and ePpub, iPad, PDF, Palm (PDB) and Sony (LRF). Read by Kara Grace, who also read "Braiding The Ghosts" for PODCASTLE. "'When the train arrived, it was jammed with commuters: students, salarymen, and office ladies. I squeezed into the last car, and more bodies pushed in behind me. My stomach churned, assaulted by cloying perfume, stale cigarette smoke, and sour sweat. I was so intent upon not being sick that at first I didn't notice that somewhere between Shibuya and Harajuko stations, a man's hand had settled on my leg. Surrounded by blank-faced commuters, wedged so tightly I couldn't move, I had no idea who it belonged to. As the train jostled along, the hand slipped higher, burning a sweat-slick trail from knee to thigh. At the next juddering stop, my agitated insides heaved, and I shoved free from the car. I fled into the closest ladies? toilet to throw up. Stomach as empty and deflated as my spirits, I splashed water on my face, trying not to cry. The door opened, and a girl in a school uniform identical to mine stepped to the sink beside me. She pulled a glittering gold bag embossed with distinctive Louis Vuitton monograms out of her schoolbag. After dumping an array of makeup on the counter, she proceeded to sketch in her eyebrows with a dark pencil. 'I saw what happened, you know." Her voice was low and rich. "You're supposed to yell 'chikan' when they grope you. Everyone says train perverts make them want to puke, but you're the first I've seen who really has. You must be new to Tokyo.'rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Foster yes No http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/20/pseudopod-265-biba-jibun/ Pseudopod 262: Black Hill http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/PkcYv9ulRXk/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/30/pseudopod-262-black-hill/#comments Fri, 30 Dec 2011 04:01:26 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=372 By Orrin Grey. Click his name to find out who killed him…

This story is available to read here.

Orrin’s first collection is due out from Evileye Books sometime early next year. It’ll be called Never Bet the Devil & Other Warnings and will feature ten of his stories, including the out of print, 22,000 word novella “The Mysterious Flame.” Also, Orrin is currently editing an anthology of horror stories that involve fungus. Get sporing…

Read by Rich Girardi.

“There was a sound come up from the hole, like a gasp. The men figured we’d hit a pocket of gas and everyone backed off in case it was like to burn. Then the derrick shook all the way up and the ground seemed to slide a little under our feet. There come a noise from the hole like I ain’t never heard the ground make in all my years. When I was a boy, my pa’d known a man who worked a whaling ship and he said that whales sang to one another. He’d put his hands together over his mouth and blown a call that he said was as close as he could do to what they sounded like. This sounded like that call.

All the men went back another pace, not knowing if maybe we’d hit a sinkhole, or God knows what. There was another groan, then an old cave stink, and then the black stuff started coming up around the pipe like a tide. I’d seen gushers in my day, the pressurized wells that blew the tops off the derricks, but this weren’t the same. This weren’t no geyser; this were a flood, the oil pouring up from under the ground like a barrel that’s been overturned. Everybody was silent for another minute and then the men gathered ’round all cheered, ’cause they knowed we’d finally hit whatever it was we’d been aiming at.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/30/pseudopod-262-black-hill/feed/ 19:26 By Orrin Grey. Click his name to find out who killed him... This story is available to read here. Orrin's first collection is due out from ... By Orrin Grey. Click his name to find out who killed him... This story is available to read here. Orrin's first collection is due out from Evileye Books sometime early next year. It'll be called Never Bet the Devil #38; Other Warnings and will feature ten of his stories, including the out of print, 22,000 word novella "The Mysterious Flame." Also, Orrin is currently editing an anthology of horror stories that involve fungus. Get sporing... Read by Rich Girardi. "There was a sound come up from the hole, like a gasp. The men figured we'd hit a pocket of gas and everyone backed off in case it was like to burn. Then the derrick shook all the way up and the ground seemed to slide a little under our feet. There come a noise from the hole like I ain't never heard the ground make in all my years. When I was a boy, my pa'd known a man who worked a whaling ship and he said that whales sang to one another. He'd put his hands together over his mouth and blown a call that he said was as close as he could do to what they sounded like. This sounded like that call. All the men went back another pace, not knowing if maybe we'd hit a sinkhole, or God knows what. There was another groan, then an old cave stink, and then the black stuff started coming up around the pipe like a tide. I'd seen gushers in my day, the pressurized wells that blew the tops off the derricks, but this weren't the same. This weren't no geyser; this were a flood, the oil pouring up from under the ground like a barrel that's been overturned. Everybody was silent for another minute and then the men gathered 'round all cheered, 'cause they knowed we'd finally hit whatever it was we'd been aiming at." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Grey yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/30/pseudopod-262-black-hill/ Pseudopod 264: A Study In Flesh And Mind http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/Rrzq5cZGm-U/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/13/pseudopod-264-a-study-in-flesh-and-mind/#comments Fri, 13 Jan 2012 04:01:07 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=377 by Liz Argall

This story originally appeared at DAILY SCIENCE FICTION on Friday, May 20th, 2011. Liz’s work can be found in a range of publications, including, Strange Horizons, Meanjin and will be in Machine of Death 2. Related to this story, she supported the Parisian Life Models Strike of 2008, details on which can be seen here and here.

Read by Philippa Ballantine who appeared here last in “In Memoriam”. Her website is currently sporting the covers of her new books, at the link under her name.



“‘Try to observe closely,’ says the Great Teacher, not really looking at her fresh pose, tapping the baton in his palm and smirking at the short-skirted student. ‘It’s like this.’

The model observes his new stance, the way his right hand grasps his hip, the left held in the air. She mimics his pose exactly, although she keeps her face carefully blank and does not include his sneering expression.

The Great Teacher snorts in disgust, shakes his head and rolls his eyes. She swiftly finds a new pose, a mangled combination of the previous three, fighting down anger and a hint of panic. She has no idea what he wants and she will not survive at this school without his recommendation.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/13/pseudopod-264-a-study-in-flesh-and-mind/feed/ 26:20 by Liz Argall This story originally appeared at DAILY SCIENCE FICTION on Friday, May 20th, 2011. Liz's work can be found in a range of ... by Liz Argall This story originally appeared at DAILY SCIENCE FICTION on Friday, May 20th, 2011. Liz's work can be found in a range of publications, including, Strange Horizons, Meanjin and will be in Machine of Death 2. Related to this story, she supported the Parisian Life Models Strike of 2008, details on which can be seen here and here. Read by Philippa Ballantine who appeared here last in "In Memoriam". Her website is currently sporting the covers of her new books, at the link under her name. "'Try to observe closely,' says the Great Teacher, not really looking at her fresh pose, tapping the baton in his palm and smirking at the short-skirted student. 'It's like this.' The model observes his new stance, the way his right hand grasps his hip, the left held in the air. She mimics his pose exactly, although she keeps her face carefully blank and does not include his sneering expression. The Great Teacher snorts in disgust, shakes his head and rolls his eyes. She swiftly finds a new pose, a mangled combination of the previous three, fighting down anger and a hint of panic. She has no idea what he wants and she will not survive at this school without his recommendation.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Argall yes No http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/13/pseudopod-264-a-study-in-flesh-and-mind/ Pseudopod 263: The Republic of the Southern Cross http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/2Tkh6vaeNBQ/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/09/pseudopod-263-the-republic-of-the-southern-cross/#comments Mon, 09 Jan 2012 08:01:43 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=373 by Valery Bryusov.

This story was written in 1905 and published in Zemnaya Os (The Axis of the Earth) in 1907. The text is available online at the Gaslight website. A more modern translation can be found in THE DEDALUS BOOK OF RUSSIAN DECADENCE: PERVERSITY, DESPAIR & COLLAPSE (2007).

As for the real world - check this out.

Read by Eric Luke of the Extruding America podcast.

“A detachment of well-armed men passed into the town, bearing food and medical first-aid, entering by the north-western gates. They, however, could not penetrate further than the first blocks of buildings, because of the dreadful atmosphere. They had to do their work step by step, clearing the bodies from the streets, disinfecting the air as they went. The only people whom they met were completely irresponsible. They resembled wild animals in their ferocity and had to be captured and held by force.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/09/pseudopod-263-the-republic-of-the-southern-cross/feed/ 52:55 by Valery Bryusov. This story was written in 1905 and published in Zemnaya Os (The Axis of the Earth) in 1907. The text is available ... by Valery Bryusov. This story was written in 1905 and published in Zemnaya Os (The Axis of the Earth) in 1907. The text is available online at the Gaslight website. A more modern translation can be found in THE DEDALUS BOOK OF RUSSIAN DECADENCE: PERVERSITY, DESPAIR #38; COLLAPSE (2007). As for the real world - check this out. Read by Eric Luke of the Extruding America podcast. "A detachment of well-armed men passed into the town, bearing food and medical first-aid, entering by the north-western gates. They, however, could not penetrate further than the first blocks of buildings, because of the dreadful atmosphere. They had to do their work step by step, clearing the bodies from the streets, disinfecting the air as they went. The only people whom they met were completely irresponsible. They resembled wild animals in their ferocity and had to be captured and held by force.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Bryusov yes No http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/09/pseudopod-263-the-republic-of-the-southern-cross/ Pseudopod 263 - slight delay http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/4WvPYSSti_I/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/06/pseudopod-263-slight-delay/#comments Fri, 06 Jan 2012 12:27:14 +0000 Graeme Dunlop http://pseudopod.org/?p=374 There will be a slight delay in the arrival of this week’s Pseudopod - no more than a day or so.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/06/pseudopod-263-slight-delay/feed/ http://pseudopod.org/2012/01/06/pseudopod-263-slight-delay/ bonus Christmas flash - Coming Home http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/0WNkgqWjmx4/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/23/bonus-christmas-flash-coming-home/#comments Fri, 23 Dec 2011 06:02:01 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=371 By Maria Alexander

The text of this story is available at Gothic.net. You can also seek out her poetry collection, AT LOUCHE ENDS: Poetry for the Decadent, the Damned & the Abinsthe-Minded published by Burning Effigy Press in Toronto and her anthology of stories by award-winning authors: LEFT HANGING: 9 Tales of Suspense and Thrills. Get it on Kindle and Nook today!

“My mouth is sour with whiskey and the loaded shotgun lays heavily across my lap in my sofa chair. This is my Christmas Eve ritual.”

AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT….

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/23/bonus-christmas-flash-coming-home/feed/ 9:22 By Maria Alexander The text of this story is available at Gothic.net. You can also seek out her poetry collection, AT LOUCHE ENDS: Poetry for ... By Maria Alexander The text of this story is available at Gothic.net. You can also seek out her poetry collection, AT LOUCHE ENDS: Poetry for the Decadent, the Damned #38; the Abinsthe-Minded published by Burning Effigy Press in Toronto and her anthology of stories by award-winning authors: LEFT HANGING: 9 Tales of Suspense and Thrills. Get it on Kindle and Nook today! "My mouth is sour with whiskey and the loaded shotgun lays heavily across my lap in my sofa chair. This is my Christmas Eve ritual." AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.... horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Alexander yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/23/bonus-christmas-flash-coming-home/ Pseudopod 261: Widdershins http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/DD6rMIlwwF8/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/23/pseudopod-261-widdershins/#comments Fri, 23 Dec 2011 05:01:44 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=370 By Robert Mammone.

You can get the Kindle version of his new short story, “Shivers”, in the collection The Big Book of New Short Horror from Pill Hill Press. And check out his earlier Pseudopod story, The Copse.

Read by Frank Key. Click his name to visit The Hooting Yard! Also, check out his previous reading for ESCAPE POD, Hesperia and Glory!

“His dreams were disturbed. He saw the moon emerge from behind a bank of racing clouds, the surface yellowed and cracked like old bone. He stood in a clearing, surrounded by outcroppings of rock and trees whose branches were lashed by the breeze. He thought he heard indistinct muttering which, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make out. Gradually, though, the muttering grew clearer, until, with a jolt, he understood.

‘Widdershins start my hair, widdershins start my hair.‘

There was a sudden blurring and the clearing vanished replaced for a brief moment with an image of Hendricks, face rigid with intent, looming over him, a wad of stinking cotton clutched in one hand. Powerless, he felt the material pressed over his mouth and nose, the fumes filling his nostrils and then he was falling…”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/23/pseudopod-261-widdershins/feed/ 38:59 By Robert Mammone. You can get the Kindle version of his new short story, "Shivers", in the collection The Big Book of New Short Horror from ... By Robert Mammone. You can get the Kindle version of his new short story, "Shivers", in the collection The Big Book of New Short Horror from Pill Hill Press. And check out his earlier Pseudopod story, The Copse. Read by Frank Key. Click his name to visit The Hooting Yard! Also, check out his previous reading for ESCAPE POD, Hesperia and Glory! "His dreams were disturbed. He saw the moon emerge from behind a bank of racing clouds, the surface yellowed and cracked like old bone. He stood in a clearing, surrounded by outcroppings of rock and trees whose branches were lashed by the breeze. He thought he heard indistinct muttering which, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make out. Gradually, though, the muttering grew clearer, until, with a jolt, he understood. 'Widdershins start my hair, widdershins start my hair.' There was a sudden blurring and the clearing vanished replaced for a brief moment with an image of Hendricks, face rigid with intent, looming over him, a wad of stinking cotton clutched in one hand. Powerless, he felt the material pressed over his mouth and nose, the fumes filling his nostrils and then he was falling..." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Mammone yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/23/pseudopod-261-widdershins/ Metacast - TRIO OF TERROR! promo http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/Kze6_Yepgks/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/10/metacast-trio-of-terror-promo/#comments Sat, 10 Dec 2011 04:01:45 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=368 Now available to all subscribers - check your email boxes for an early Christmas gift from Pseudopod - links to three new stories in our ongoing series. It’s the TRIO OF TERROR and it is yours if you’re a subscriber to any Escape Artists podcast OR have made a one-time donation of $50 dollars or more since January 1, 2011 (or if you choose to do so in the immediate future - hint, hint….)

Offer WILL expire at a future date, just like all of us… or some of us…

What are you getting for your hard-earned dollars, you ask? I’m glad you did! How about…

***

“The Yellow Curse” by Grady Hendrix, in which our (self) esteemed and elitist occult investigating Gentleman’s club, The White Street Society (only pedigrees need apply) delve into the heathen underbelly of Chinatown and uproot madness. Horrific comedy satire with a serrated edge! Click his name to visit his website and check out Amazon and other digital book spots for his ebook SATAN LOVES YOU.

“”Chinatown suffers,’ he declared. ‘Rumors of war. A mysterious artifact. Something stolen in the night. Adventure calls. And I answer with a merry cry on my lips and my cane in my hand. Come, William! Prepare yourself for sights beyond the ken of mortal man! For we go now to solve…. THE YELLOW CURSE!‘”

Read by our own Alasdair Stuart

***

“The Shooting Way” by Jim Bihyeh, featuring a further exploration into the horrors of Native American mythology and the schemes of the legendary trickster god, Coyote. His memoir, NAVAJOS WEAR NIKES, about life on the Navajo Reservation, was released in spring 2011 and was praised for its “wit and keen observation” by the Arizona Daily Sun and for its “consummate storytelling” by New Mexico Magazine. It was recently released in paperback and is a New Mexico Book Award finalist this year. Look for it at Amazon.com, Alibris.com and check out the Facebook page for the book and the NAVAJOS WEAR NIKES group . “The green eyes had belonged to an owl. Skinwalkers – yee naaldloshíí – were shape-shifters, and traveled as night animals to keep their business secret. And it had been bad business for auntie Bonita since August. Four cows had died in the last two weeks, bucking and groaning while they foamed at the mouth, as though they’d eaten the purple-flowering locoweed that grew in the flat stretches of desert. But Bonita swore they’d never grazed over it. Something must have fed it to them.”

Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy!

***

“Nourished By Chaff, We Believe The Glamor” by Tim W. Burke, wherein an associate of the eternally ambitious Guru Keresh must deal with an old plaything and an even older playmate! Click his name to check out Tim’s blog. His novel THE MAD EARL’S HOMECOMING is available on Amazon, as is my short story collection PENSIVE CREATURES.

“Then I remembered something I had told the ladies: good spirits want to nurture love for all; selfish ones want to divide us all.

Show-Show’s eyes had a dark gleam I hadn’t remembered before.

Grasping at Alecsandri’s questions, I asked, ‘Those boys…in Mobile…at the warehouse. What did you do with them?’

‘They didn’t want to go away to the military academy. They wanted to be pirates. So I took them to their pirate ship.’

‘Show-Show, what have you become?’”

Read by Veronica Giguere

***

If you’re new to Pseudopod, or have missed any of the previous stories in these series, rest assured each of these tales is free-standing… and if they pique your interest, please check out these download links to the previous installments!

THE COYOTE TALES by Jim Bihyeh

THE WHITE STREET SOCIETY by Grady Hendrix

THE SAGA OF GURU KERESH by Tim W. Burke

Merry Christmas from Pseudopod… we’ll keep the lights off for ya!

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/10/metacast-trio-of-terror-promo/feed/ 2:49 Now available to all subscribers - check your email boxes for an early Christmas gift from Pseudopod - links to three new stories in our ... Now available to all subscribers - check your email boxes for an early Christmas gift from Pseudopod - links to three new stories in our ongoing series. It's the TRIO OF TERROR and it is yours if you're a subscriber to any Escape Artists podcast OR have made a one-time donation of $50 dollars or more since January 1, 2011 (or if you choose to do so in the immediate future - hint, hint....) Offer WILL expire at a future date, just like all of us... or some of us... What are you getting for your hard-earned dollars, you ask? I'm glad you did! How about... *** "The Yellow Curse" by Grady Hendrix, in which our (self) esteemed and elitist occult investigating Gentleman's club, The White Street Society (only pedigrees need apply) delve into the heathen underbelly of Chinatown and uproot madness. Horrific comedy satire with a serrated edge! Click his name to visit his website and check out Amazon and other digital book spots for his ebook SATAN LOVES YOU. "''Chinatown suffers,' he declared. 'Rumors of war. A mysterious artifact. Something stolen in the night. Adventure calls. And I answer with a merry cry on my lips and my cane in my hand. Come, William! Prepare yourself for sights beyond the ken of mortal man! For we go now to solve.... THE YELLOW CURSE!'" Read by our own Alasdair Stuart *** "The Shooting Way" by Jim Bihyeh, featuring a further exploration into the horrors of Native American mythology and the schemes of the legendary trickster god, Coyote. His memoir,nbsp;NAVAJOS WEAR NIKES, about life on the Navajo Reservation, was released in spring 2011 and was praised for its ldquo;wit and keen observationrdquo; by the Arizona Daily Sun and for its ldquo;consummate storytellingrdquo; by New Mexico Magazine. It was recently released in paperback and is a New Mexico Book Award finalist this year. Look for it at Amazon.com, Alibris.com and check out thenbsp;Facebook page for the book and thenbsp;NAVAJOS WEAR NIKES group . "The green eyes had belonged to an owl. Skinwalkers ndash; yee naaldloshiacute;iacute; ndash; were shape-shifters, and traveled as night animals to keep their business secret. And it had been bad business for auntie Bonita since August. Four cows had died in the last two weeks, bucking and groaning while they foamed at the mouth, as though theyrsquo;d eaten the purple-flowering locoweed that grew in the flat stretches of desert. But Bonita swore theyrsquo;d never grazed over it. Something must have fed it to them." Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy! *** "Nourished By Chaff, We Believe The Glamor" by Tim W. Burke, wherein an associate of the eternally ambitious Guru Keresh must deal with an old plaything and an even older playmate! Click his name to check out Tim's blog. His novel THE MAD EARL'S HOMECOMING is available on Amazon, as is my short story collection PENSIVE CREATURES. "Then I remembered something I had told the ladies: good spirits want to nurture love for all; selfish ones want to divide us all. Show-Showrsquo;s eyes had a dark gleam I hadnrsquo;t remembered before. Grasping at Alecsandrirsquo;s questions, I asked, 'Those boyshellip;in Mobilehellip;at the warehouse. What did you do with them?' 'They didnrsquo;t want to go away to the military academy. They wanted to be pirates. So I took them to their pirate ship.' 'Show-Show, what have you become?'" Read by Veronica Giguere *** If you're new to Pseudopod, or have missed any of the previous stories in these series, rest assured each of these tales is free-standing... and if they pique your interest, please check out these download links to the previous installments! THE COYOTE TALES by Jim Bihyeh Pseudopod 159: Reservation Monsters Pseudopod 167: Love Like Thunder Pseudopod 182: The Dreaming Way THE WHITE STREET SOCIETY by Grady Hendrix Pseudopod 76: Tales of the White Street Society Pseudopod 131: Tales of the White Street Society - The Corpse Army of Khartoum THE SAGA OF GURU KERESH by ... horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Hendrix, Bihyeh, Burke yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/10/metacast-trio-of-terror-promo/ Pseudopod 260: Saint Nicholas’ Helper http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/UhsVWbUds14/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/16/pseudopod-260-saint-nicholas-helper/#comments Fri, 16 Dec 2011 04:01:04 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=369 By D.K. Thompson.

I believe he has something to do with Podcastle, I think… You can listen to his previous Pseudopod story Last Respects at the link.

Read by Marie Brennan. Click her name to visit The Swan Tower! Also, check out her new book on Amazon, With Fate Conspire, the fourth volume in the Onyx Court series!

“Saint Nicholas looked just like he did in the picture stories: tall and thin, with a grand white beard that flowed to his waist. He wore a red-fur trimmed coat, a tall bishop’s hat, and clutched a gold staff. He smiled and said something, but Greta wasn’t listening. She hid behind her elder sister Heike and stared at the saint’s demonic assistant, Krampus.

A wooden mask covered the demon’s face, a wicked smile carved into it that did not shift. Krampus tilted his horned head, his black pupils focused on Greta through the eye slits. His dark coat of damp furs smelled of decay, and he was wrapped in chains that he shook at the children.

They’d come every year to her house, the saint and his assistant, but back then Greta’s father had been there to protect her.

Krampus brandished a long, thin switch and hissed.

Heike put a hand on Greta’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t be scared. You’ve been good, right?””

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/16/pseudopod-260-saint-nicholas-helper/feed/ 31:30 By D.K. Thompson. I believe he has something to do with Podcastle, I think... You can listen to his previous Pseudopod story Last Respects at the ... By D.K. Thompson. I believe he has something to do with Podcastle, I think... You can listen to his previous Pseudopod story Last Respects at the link. Read by Marie Brennan. Click her name to visit The Swan Tower! Also, check out her new book on Amazon, With Fate Conspire, the fourth volume in the Onyx Court series! "Saint Nicholas looked just like he did in the picture stories: tall and thin, with a grand white beard that flowed to his waist. He wore a red-fur trimmed coat, a tall bishoprsquo;s hat, and clutched a gold staff. He smiled and said something, but Greta wasnrsquo;t listening. She hid behind her elder sister Heike and stared at the saintrsquo;s demonic assistant, Krampus. A wooden mask covered the demonrsquo;s face, a wicked smile carved into it that did not shift. Krampus tilted his horned head, his black pupils focused on Greta through the eye slits. His dark coat of damp furs smelled of decay, and he was wrapped in chains that he shook at the children. Theyrsquo;d come every year to her house, the saint and his assistant, but back then Gretarsquo;s father had been there to protect her. Krampus brandished a long, thin switch and hissed. Heike put a hand on Gretarsquo;s shoulder and whispered, ldquo;Donrsquo;t be scared. Yoursquo;ve been good, right?rdquo;" horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Thompson yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/16/pseudopod-260-saint-nicholas-helper/ Pseudopod 259: To My Wondering Eyes Did Appear http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/X0beVTUpU78/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/09/pseudopod-259-to-my-wondering-eyes-did-appear/#comments Fri, 09 Dec 2011 04:01:39 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=367 By Larry C. Kay.

His blog, Scribbleninja, is you know where. Also, check out STEAMPUNK TALES for more of his work.

Read by Stephanie Morris. Click her name to hear more from her at the Scribbleomania blog!

“A figure obscured the flames of the fireplace: a man. Bettia sat up quickly, blinking away sleep, thinking it was her father. But this man was shorter, rounder, and part of her groggy mind considered Santa Claus, and that she must have slept for days.

Her eyes adjusted and she could see that the man indeed wore a red shirt. Not like a dumb mall Santa, but a working man’s shirt: rough and stained darker red on top of the red. And not any fire engine red, but crimson; just like his Converse All-Stars. His jeans were black or maybe just covered in soot. His face was dirty like a coal miner’s, but Bettia thought he was a white man.

He carried a black bag slung over one shoulder, an empty bag, but Bettia knew this man was no burglar. This shaggy buffalo of a man smiled when he noticed Bettia, and showed his sharp fighting-dog teeth. Bettia heard a whimper, and shame crinkled her face as she realized it was she that sounded like a whipped mutt.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/09/pseudopod-259-to-my-wondering-eyes-did-appear/feed/ 33:36 By Larry C. Kay. His blog, Scribbleninja, is you know where. Also, check out STEAMPUNK TALES for more of his work. Read by Stephanie Morris. ... By Larry C. Kay. His blog, Scribbleninja, is you know where. Also, check out STEAMPUNK TALES for more of his work. Read by Stephanie Morris. Click her name to hear more from her at the Scribbleomania blog! "A figure obscured the flames of the fireplace: a man. Bettia sat up quickly, blinking away sleep, thinking it was her father. But this man was shorter, rounder, and part of her groggy mind considered Santa Claus, and that she must have slept for days. Her eyes adjusted and she could see that the man indeed wore a red shirt. Not like a dumb mall Santa, but a working manrsquo;s shirt: rough and stained darker red on top of the red. And not any fire engine red, but crimson; just like his Converse All-Stars. His jeans were black or maybe just covered in soot. His face was dirty like a coal minerrsquo;s, but Bettia thought he was a white man. He carried a black bag slung over one shoulder, an empty bag, but Bettia knew this man was no burglar. This shaggy buffalo of a man smiled when he noticed Bettia, and showed his sharp fighting-dog teeth. Bettia heard a whimper, and shame crinkled her face as she realized it was she that sounded like a whipped mutt." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Kay yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/09/pseudopod-259-to-my-wondering-eyes-did-appear/ Pseudopod 258: The Stink of Animosity http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/Z7KK7dd8W_g/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/01/pseudopod-258-the-stink-of-animosity/#comments Thu, 01 Dec 2011 04:01:09 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=366 By Rob E. Boley.

Rob would like you to visit Mission: Wolf and learn about wolf conservation.

Read by Rish Outfield, say it with me…Dunesteef!

“‘“So, what did she do?”

These are the first words the stranger says to you as he takes the bar stool on your right. The hotel lounge has at least two-dozen seats scattered between the bar and four tables, and only half of those seats are filled. Yet he sits next to you. His voice is almost a growl – all gravel and broken glass – too ragged for someone his age.

Judging from his unblemished skin, you guess the stranger is no more than nineteen or twenty. You search your memories, wondering if he’s one of your students at the college. But no, you would remember him. He’s got an unkempt, patchy beard and dirty, long hair. Everything about him says wannabe hippie or beatnik: his worn boots, his thrift store brown leather jacket, and his dirty grey t-shirt. His eyes are wild, like he’s been chewing on a handful of random pills.

“Who? What are you talking about?” you ask, trying to sound abrupt but not aggressive. You’re not looking for a fight. At least, not with him.

“You got the stink of animosity on you, is all. I can smell it; it’s so strong. It’s not hard to see that you’re pissed at someone.””

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/01/pseudopod-258-the-stink-of-animosity/feed/ 37:42 By Rob E. Boley. Rob would like you to visit Mission: Wolf and learn about wolf conservation. Read by Rish Outfield, say it with me...Dunesteef! "'ldquo;So, what did ... By Rob E. Boley. Rob would like you to visit Mission: Wolf and learn about wolf conservation. Read by Rish Outfield, say it with me...Dunesteef! "'ldquo;So, what did she do?rdquo; These are the first words the stranger says to you as he takes the bar stool on your right. The hotel lounge has at least two-dozen seats scattered between the bar and four tables, and only half of those seats are filled. Yet he sits next to you. His voice is almost a growl ndash; all gravel and broken glass ndash; too ragged for someone his age. Judging from his unblemished skin, you guess the stranger is no more than nineteen or twenty. You search your memories, wondering if hersquo;s one of your students at the college. But no, you would remember him. Hersquo;s got an unkempt, patchy beard and dirty, long hair. Everything about him says wannabe hippie or beatnik: his worn boots, his thrift store brown leather jacket, and his dirty grey t-shirt. His eyes are wild, like hersquo;s been chewing on a handful of random pills. ldquo;Who? What are you talking about?rdquo; you ask, trying to sound abrupt but not aggressive. Yoursquo;re not looking for a fight. At least, not with him. ldquo;You got the stink of animosity on you, is all. I can smell it; itrsquo;s so strong. Itrsquo;s not hard to see that yoursquo;re pissed at someone.rdquo;" horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Boley yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/12/01/pseudopod-258-the-stink-of-animosity/ Pseudopod 257: In “The Poor Girl Taken By Surprise” http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/VDuzwkDsCdk/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/25/pseudopod-257-in-the-poor-girl-taken-by-surprise/#comments Fri, 25 Nov 2011 04:01:14 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=365 By Gemma Files.

Aside from the THE GEMMA FILES under her name, you can also visit Gemma at the following blogs: Music At Midnight, Segregation, and Handful of Dust! A BOOK OF TONGUES, the first volume of her HEXSLINGER series can be purchased from Amazon.

Read by Julia Rios, whose blog is at the link under her name.

“‘Yet here we sit snug and warm and dry nonetheless, traders and settlers and immigrants bound for even more distant places alike, before this open, welcoming fire; here we may eat and drink our fill and go ‘round the circle in turn, each of we travellers swapping a story for our place beneath this roof ‘till morning. And I will be more than glad to add my own contribution to that roster, if only it should please you to bend your ear and listen.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/25/pseudopod-257-in-the-poor-girl-taken-by-surprise/feed/ 31:22 By Gemma Files. Aside from the THE GEMMA FILES under her name, you can also visit Gemma at the following blogs: Music At Midnight, Segregation, and ... By Gemma Files. Aside from the THE GEMMA FILES under her name, you can also visit Gemma at the following blogs: Music At Midnight, Segregation, and Handful of Dust! A BOOK OF TONGUES, the first volume of her HEXSLINGER series can be purchased from Amazon. Read by Julia Rios, whose blog is at the link under her name. "'Yet here we sit snug and warm and dry nonetheless, traders and settlers and immigrants bound for even more distant places alike, before this open, welcoming fire; here we may eat and drink our fill and go lsquo;round the circle in turn, each of we travellers swapping a story for our place beneath this roof lsquo;till morning. And I will be more than glad to add my own contribution to that roster, if only it should please you to bend your ear and listen." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Files yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/25/pseudopod-257-in-the-poor-girl-taken-by-surprise/ Pseudopod 256: Repler http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/i_6OIBGylhY/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/18/pseudopod-256-repler/#comments Fri, 18 Nov 2011 04:01:41 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=364 By Jonathan Lowe. Click his name to visit his website - Tower Review! His audio book review column for Myshelf.com, “Audio Buzz”, can be read at the link.

Read by John Meagher, who writes and narrates the ongoing swashbuckling fantasy audio series TALES OF THE LEFT HAND (link under his name - don’t tell your right hand!).

“‘Then, as he was about to ascend, he noticed the closed pantry door. Not wanting to, but feeling compelled, he paused to twist the knob and nudge the door open with his foot.

The shelves inside were lined with skulls. Canine and feline. Beneath a row of glasses were several stacks of torn magazines. Glossy photos of nude women. He kneeled almost involuntarily, reaching for a small skull among others. Practically indistinguishable, except by shape.

The skull of a baby.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/18/pseudopod-256-repler/feed/ 32:23 By Jonathan Lowe. Click his name to visit his website - Tower Review! His audio book review column for Myshelf.com, "Audio Buzz", can be read ... By Jonathan Lowe. Click his name to visit his website - Tower Review! His audio book review column for Myshelf.com, "Audio Buzz", can be read at the link. Read by John Meagher, who writes and narrates the ongoing swashbuckling fantasy audio series TALES OF THE LEFT HAND (link under his name - don't tell your right hand!). "'Then, as he was about to ascend, he noticed the closed pantry door. Not wanting to, but feeling compelled, he paused to twist the knob and nudge the door open with his foot. The shelves inside were lined with skulls. Canine and feline. Beneath a row of glasses were several stacks of torn magazines. Glossy photos of nude women. He kneeled almost involuntarily, reaching for a small skull among others. Practically indistinguishable, except by shape. The skull of a baby." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Lowe yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/18/pseudopod-256-repler/ Pseudopod 255: Flash on The Borderlands IX - It’s War! http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/F2wtIBnTt60/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/11/pseudopod-255-flash-on-the-borderlands-ix-its-war/#comments Fri, 11 Nov 2011 04:01:22 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=363 Three VETERAN’S DAY flash fictions about war - ancient, recent and omnipresent



KING

By C. Deskin Rink.

Mr. Rink has previously appeared on Pseudopod with episode #186 - “Ankor Sabat”. A sequel to it, “The High Priest”, appeared as episode #35 of the (Cast Macabre podcast). He has an upcoming story, “Kingdom of Sorrow,” in the Dark Tales of Lost Civilizations anthology.

Read by V.O. Bloodfrost, who previously read the Podcastle Miniature #65 “Blood Willows”. He can be contacted at his Twitter @VBloodfrost.

“The first time I beheld my King was amidst the arcades and columns of Babylon beneath an aching, cerulean firmament. From the uppermost heights of the hanging gardens he descended, taking each megalithic tier in a single stride until his final step cracked wide the world itself. His bloodshot eyes stared out at me from beneath his golden crown: wide and perfectly round – bereft of lids, lashes or flesh. “Hail!” I cried out, “Hail! Our King is descended from on high to rule the Earth!”"



NUMBER 21 RUE LE SUEUR

By Edward McDermott

While the story is fiction, the events it describes are all real: Dresden, 84 avenue foch, 93 Rue Lauriston, and Number 21 Rue le Sueur .

Read by Ben Phillips.

“”We had received several reports about a doctor in Paris who was part of the resistance. Dr. Eugene of the resistance cell code named Fly-Tox. He was one of many, and we were told to concentrate on the Red Orchestra, that was the Communist spy system and resistance system in France. Your British and American agents were simply not that important.

“However, Robert Jodkum of IV-B4, the Jewish Affairs Department of the Gestapo, learned from an informer that a “Dr. Eugène” was helping Jews get out of France and flee to Argentina. Jodkum was a bit of martinet, and the thought of anyone escaping drove him into a rage. The informer led him to the barbershop of a lowlife called Raoul Fourrier, who was directing people to the ‘escape route’. Jodkum arrested Doctor Marcel André Henri Félix Petiot. We held him in Fresnes prison south of Paris for several months.”

Johnson looked bored.

“The problem was that Fourrier knew nothing, and Petiot wouldn’t talk. There was no proof of any escape line. We tracked several people who supposedly used this line to disappear, and disappear they did, but they never turned up anywhere else.”



WAR

By Aaron Ashley Garrison

Click his name for his website. Aaron also blogs at Synchroshock.

Read by Dominic Rabrun. Click the link under his name to visit his blog, Sketch Banquet.

“‘These little rabbit’s feet, on my neck? They mean I’ve killed a man. Men. And I don’t regret nothin. It was war.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/11/pseudopod-255-flash-on-the-borderlands-ix-its-war/feed/ 44:14 Three VETERAN'S DAY flash fictions about war - ancient, recent and omnipresent KING By C. Deskin Rink. Mr. Rink has previously appeared on Pseudopod with episode #186 - ... Three VETERAN'S DAY flash fictions about war - ancient, recent and omnipresent KING By C. Deskin Rink. Mr. Rink has previously appeared on Pseudopod with episode #186 - "Ankor Sabat". A sequel to it, "The High Priest", appeared as episode #35 of the (Cast Macabre podcast). He has an upcoming story, "Kingdom of Sorrow," in the Dark Tales of Lost Civilizations anthology. Read by V.O. Bloodfrost, who previously read the Podcastle Miniature #65 "Blood Willows". He can be contacted at his Twitter @VBloodfrost. "The first time I beheld my King was amidst the arcades and columns of Babylon beneath an aching, cerulean firmament. From the uppermost heights of the hanging gardens he descended, taking each megalithic tier in a single stride until his final step cracked wide the world itself. His bloodshot eyes stared out at me from beneath his golden crown: wide and perfectly round ndash; bereft of lids, lashes or flesh. "Hail!" I cried out, "Hail! Our King is descended from on high to rule the Earth!"" NUMBER 21 RUE LE SUEUR By Edward McDermott While the story is fiction, the events it describes are all real: Dresden, 84 avenue foch, 93 Rue Lauriston, and Number 21 Rue le Sueur . Read by Ben Phillips. ""We had received several reports about a doctor in Paris who was part of the resistance. Dr. Eugene of the resistance cell code named Fly-Tox. He was one of many, and we were told to concentrate on the Red Orchestra, that was the Communist spy system and resistance system in France. Your British and American agents were simply not that important. "However, Robert Jodkum of IV-B4, the Jewish Affairs Department of the Gestapo, learned from an informer that a "Dr. Eugegrave;ne" was helping Jews get out of France and flee to Argentina. Jodkum was a bit of martinet, and the thought of anyone escaping drove him into a rage. The informer led him to the barbershop of a lowlife called Raoul Fourrier, who was directing people to the lsquo;escape routersquo;. Jodkum arrested Doctor Marcel Andreacute; Henri Feacute;lix Petiot. We held him in Fresnes prison south of Paris for several months." Johnson looked bored. "The problem was that Fourrier knew nothing, and Petiot wouldnrsquo;t talk. There was no proof of any escape line. We tracked several people who supposedly used this line to disappear, and disappear they did, but they never turned up anywhere else." WAR By Aaron Ashley Garrison Click his name for his website. Aaron also blogs at Synchroshock. Read by Dominic Rabrun. Click the link under his name to visit his blog, Sketch Banquet. "'These little rabbit's feet, on my neck? They mean I've killed a man. Men. And I don't regret nothin. It was war." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Rink, McDermott Garrison yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/11/pseudopod-255-flash-on-the-borderlands-ix-its-war/ Pseudopod 254: The Blood Garden http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/jwaxNpbCnvs/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/04/pseudopod-254-the-blood-garden/#comments Fri, 04 Nov 2011 04:01:35 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=362 by Jesse Livingston.

Click the link under his name to access Reconstruction Records, home to all of Jesse’s projects (including his podcast The Glamor Pet Radio Hour)! Jesse also writes reviews at Buzzine and Threeviewed.

Read by Chris Reynaga.

“So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.



She was alone when she died.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight ‘twould win me

That with music loud and long

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed

And drunk the milk of Paradise.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/04/pseudopod-254-the-blood-garden/feed/ 23:09 by Jesse Livingston. Click the link under his name to access Reconstruction Records, home to all of Jesse's projects (including his podcast The Glamor Pet Radio ... by Jesse Livingston. Click the link under his name to access Reconstruction Records, home to all of Jesse's projects (including his podcast The Glamor Pet Radio Hour)! Jesse also writes reviews at Buzzine and Threeviewed. Read by Chris Reynaga. "So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. She was alone when she died. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me That with music loud and long I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed And drunk the milk of Paradise.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Livingston yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/11/04/pseudopod-254-the-blood-garden/ Pseudopod 253: Trying To Stay Dead http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/s1sQYc_v890/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/28/pseudopod-253-trying-to-stay-dead/#comments Fri, 28 Oct 2011 05:01:30 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=361 by Richard S. Crawford.

Click the link under his name to discover his world.

Read by Steve Anderson “Doctor Bell’s assistant led me into the tiny exam room and gestured at the leather-padded chair in the center. ‘Are you ready to do this?’ she asked, smiling.

I hesitated. I’d been psyching myself up for an animectomy for two months, but now the exam room gave me pause. It reminded me of a dentist’s office: The chair in the center of the room sat benignly beneath a single circular lamp that could be moved and aimed in any direction, while beside it lurked a movable desk with a tiny computer and a single instrument that looked like a dentist’s drill. ‘I suppose.’

‘You’re nervous, I can tell.’ The assistant wore a simple pink smock, the kind dental and mental hygienists all over the world wore. Her teeth gleamed an almost unnatural shade of white, and her silky brown hair cascaded lushly over her shoulders. She looked like a model.

And why not? The tiny scar on her left temple and the ever so slightly unfocused look in her eyes told me she’d already had the Snip. She acted happy and well adjusted and was unaware of anything she or I were saying or doing.”

The Parade music is “Restless Spirits - Underscore - Halloween 2″ by Film Composer David Beard. Music from Music Alley.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/28/pseudopod-253-trying-to-stay-dead/feed/ 35:45 by Richard S. Crawford. Click the link under his name to discover his world. Read by Steve Anderson "Doctor Bell's assistant led me into the tiny exam room ... by Richard S. Crawford. Click the link under his name to discover his world. Read by Steve Anderson "Doctor Bell's assistant led me into the tiny exam room and gestured at the leather-padded chair in the center. 'Are you ready to do this?' she asked, smiling. I hesitated. I'd been psyching myself up for an animectomy for two months, but now the exam room gave me pause. It reminded me of a dentist's office: The chair in the center of the room sat benignly beneath a single circular lamp that could be moved and aimed in any direction, while beside it lurked a movable desk with a tiny computer and a single instrument that looked like a dentist's drill. 'I suppose.' 'You're nervous, I can tell.' The assistant wore a simple pink smock, the kind dental and mental hygienists all over the world wore. Her teeth gleamed an almost unnatural shade of white, and her silky brown hair cascaded lushly over her shoulders. She looked like a model. And why not? The tiny scar on her left temple and the ever so slightly unfocused look in her eyes told me she'd already had the Snip. She acted happy and well adjusted and was unaware of anything she or I were saying or doing.rdquo; The Parade music is "Restless Spirits - Underscore - Halloween 2" by Film Composer David Beard. Music from Music Alley. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Crawford yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/28/pseudopod-253-trying-to-stay-dead/ Pseudopod 252: The Cord http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/QB2jgxqVzks/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/21/pseudopod-252-the-cord/#comments Fri, 21 Oct 2011 04:01:14 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=360 by Chris Lewis Carter

More work by Chris can be found in 3AM Magazine, Word Riot, Murky Depths, and Nelson Literacy 8.

Read by David Michel

“It’s just after midnight when her screams wake me. Loud, panicked shrieks that slice through my sleep-fogged brain like shards of glass.

“Carl! Get down here right now! Oh my God, Carl!”

I roll out of bed and stumble over to the window. Across the cul-de-sac, I see my neighbour, Mrs. Richardson, bathed in the dull glow of a street light. She’s wearing a flower-print nightgown and has a head full of curling rollers.

“What is wrong with you? Get down!”

Nearly half-way up the light pole she’s standing beside is her husband, Carl, his arms and legs locked tightly around the wood. He’s naked, except for a bright red bathrobe, which is untied and flapping in the breeze like a terrycloth flag.

“Help! Carl! Please, someone, help!””

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/21/pseudopod-252-the-cord/feed/ 18:56 by Chris Lewis Carter More work by Chris can be found in 3AM Magazine, Word Riot, Murky Depths, and Nelson Literacy 8. Read by David Michel "It's just ... by Chris Lewis Carter More work by Chris can be found in 3AM Magazine, Word Riot, Murky Depths, and Nelson Literacy 8. Read by David Michel "It's just after midnight when her screams wake me. Loud, panicked shrieks that slice through my sleep-fogged brain like shards of glass. ldquo;Carl! Get down here right now! Oh my God, Carl!rdquo; I roll out of bed and stumble over to the window. Across the cul-de-sac, I see my neighbour, Mrs. Richardson, bathed in the dull glow of a street light. She's wearing a flower-print nightgown and has a head full of curling rollers. ldquo;What is wrong with you? Get down!rdquo; Nearly half-way up the light pole she's standing beside is her husband, Carl, his arms and legs locked tightly around the wood. He's naked, except for a bright red bathrobe, which is untied and flapping in the breeze like a terrycloth flag. ldquo;Help! Carl! Please, someone, help!rdquo;rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Carter yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/21/pseudopod-252-the-cord/ Pseudopod 251: Yardwork http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/rhQpupDAK0Y/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/14/pseudopod-251-yardwork/#comments Fri, 14 Oct 2011 04:01:04 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=359 by Bruce Blake.

Bruce also has a blog here. E-book versions of his works are online at Smashwords.

Read by Brian Rollins

“Tim made a special trip to buy the shovel he used to bury the nameless man. It was easy: a lady in a blue vest helped him without a second thought. A fifteen-year-old buying a spade doesn’t raise concern; it’s not like purchasing a gun or machete, though a shovel could be as deadly. The shovel didn’t kill the man, Tim used it to bury the bits and pieces.

In the end, his father’s garden shears killed the nameless man.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/14/pseudopod-251-yardwork/feed/ 39:27 by Bruce Blake. Bruce also has a blog here. E-book versions of his works are online at Smashwords. Read by Brian Rollins "Tim made a special trip ... by Bruce Blake. Bruce also has a blog here. E-book versions of his works are online at Smashwords. Read by Brian Rollins "Tim made a special trip to buy the shovel he used to bury the nameless man. It was easy: a lady in a blue vest helped him without a second thought. A fifteen-year-old buying a spade doesnrsquo;t raise concern; itrsquo;s not like purchasing a gun or machete, though a shovel could be as deadly. The shovel didnrsquo;t kill the man, Tim used it to bury the bits and pieces. In the end, his fatherrsquo;s garden shears killed the nameless man.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Blake yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/14/pseudopod-251-yardwork/ Pseudopod 250: The Voice In The Night http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/ibeOCCoeE8g/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/07/pseudopod-250-the-voice-in-the-night/#comments Fri, 07 Oct 2011 08:28:50 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=358 by William Hope Hodgson (1877–1918)

Read by Wilson Fowlie

“‘Can’t you come alongside for them?’ he asked.

‘No — I DARE NOT,’ replied the voice, and it seemed to me that in its tones I detected a note of stifled craving — as though the owner hushed a mortal desire.”

Here’s to 250 more!!!

Music in the promo is “The Gift” by Joe Mieczkowski. Music by Music Alley.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/07/pseudopod-250-the-voice-in-the-night/feed/ 38:58 by William Hope Hodgson (1877ndash;1918) Read by Wilson Fowlie "'Can't you come alongside for them?' he asked. 'No mdash; I DARE NOT,' replied the voice, and it ... by William Hope Hodgson (1877ndash;1918) Read by Wilson Fowlie "'Can't you come alongside for them?' he asked. 'No mdash; I DARE NOT,' replied the voice, and it seemed to me that in its tones I detected a note of stifled craving mdash; as though the owner hushed a mortal desire." Here's to 250 more!!! Music in the promo is "The Gift" bynbsp;Joe Mieczkowski. Music bynbsp;Music Alley. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Hodgson yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/10/07/pseudopod-250-the-voice-in-the-night/ Pseudopod 247: Looker http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/ld3zzwGGn3Q/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/16/pseudopod-247-looker/#comments Fri, 16 Sep 2011 04:01:36 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=354 by David Nickle

David has been on Pseudopod previously with “The Sloan Men” and “The Inevitability of Earth”. Click the link under his name to check out his Chizine Publications.

Read by Steve Cropper. Check out his podcast “Reputation Online” at the link.

“‘Get in,’ she said, ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

It didn’t occur to me that this might be a trick until I was well out at sea. Wouldn’t it be the simplest thing, I thought, as I dove under a breaking wave, to wait until I was out far enough, gather my trousers, find the wallet and the mobile phone, toss the clothes into the surf and run to a waiting car? I’m developing my suspicious mind, really, my dearest — but it still has a time delay on it, even after everything…

I came up, broke my stroke, and turned to look back at the beach.

She waved at me. I was pleased — and relieved — to see that she was naked too. My valuables were safe as they could be. And Lucy had quite a nice figure, as it turned out: fine full breasts — wide, muscular hips — a small bulge at the tummy, true… but taken with the whole, far from offensive.

I waved back, took a deep breath and dove again, this time deep enough to touch bottom. My fingers brushed sea-rounded rock and stirred up sand, and I turned and kicked and broke out to the moonless night, and only then it occurred to me — how clearly I’d seen her on the beach, two dozen yards off, maybe further.

There lay the problem. There wasn’t enough light. I shouldn’t have seen anything.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/16/pseudopod-247-looker/feed/ 39:04 by David Nickle David has been on Pseudopod previously with "The Sloan Men" and "The Inevitability of Earth". Click the link under his name to ... by David Nickle David has been on Pseudopod previously with "The Sloan Men" and "The Inevitability of Earth". Click the link under his name to check out his Chizine Publications. Read by Steve Cropper. Check out his podcast "Reputation Online" at the link. "'Get in,' she said, 'I'll be right behind you.' It didn't occur to me that this might be a trick until I was well out at sea. Wouldn't it be the simplest thing, I thought, as I dove under a breaking wave, to wait until I was out far enough, gather my trousers, find the wallet and the mobile phone, toss the clothes into the surf and run to a waiting car? I'm developing my suspicious mind, really, my dearest -- but it still has a time delay on it, even after everything... I came up, broke my stroke, and turned to look back at the beach. She waved at me. I was pleased -- and relieved -- to see that she was naked too. My valuables were safe as they could be. And Lucy had quite a nice figure, as it turned out: fine full breasts -- wide, muscular hips -- a small bulge at the tummy, true... but taken with the whole, far from offensive. I waved back, took a deep breath and dove again, this time deep enough to touch bottom. My fingers brushed sea-rounded rock and stirred up sand, and I turned and kicked and broke out to the moonless night, and only then it occurred to me -- how clearly I'd seen her on the beach, two dozen yards off, maybe further. There lay the problem. There wasn't enough light. I shouldn't have seen anything." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Nickle yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/16/pseudopod-247-looker/ Pseudopod 249: Kavar The Rat http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/I8pJQklbOvE/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/30/pseudopod-249-kavar-the-rat/#comments Fri, 30 Sep 2011 06:02:30 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=356 by Thomas Owen, who you really should read more of…

Translated by Edward Gauvin. He recently translated the stories by Georges-Olivier Châteaureynaud contained in A Life on Paper (Small Beer, 2010)

Read by David Rees-Thomas, one of the editors of Ideomancer. “But he’d been a skillful artisan, and remained so. At the beginning of his career, his real specialty had been locksmithing. Ah! Nothing to do with today’s dumb little locks, all identical, with grooved keys and four screws to be slapped up any old where, which came apart with a blow of your fist. No. Real locks, ingenious, intelligent, personal, custom-made. He’d built all kinds! Secrets, thief-proof, devilishly clever. But also screaming padlocks that wouldn’t let themselves be violated, latches that struck back, a stack of sneaky, perplexing little mechanisms to turn the most sensible engineer pale.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/30/pseudopod-249-kavar-the-rat/feed/ 27:37 by Thomas Owen, who you really should read more of... Translated by Edward Gauvin. He recently translated the stories by Georges-Olivier Chacirc;teaureynaud contained in A ... by Thomas Owen, who you really should read more of... Translated by Edward Gauvin. He recently translated the stories by Georges-Olivier Chacirc;teaureynaud contained in A Life on Paper (Small Beer, 2010) Read by David Rees-Thomas, one of the editors of Ideomancer. "But hersquo;d been a skillful artisan, and remained so. At the beginning of his career, his real specialty had been locksmithing. Ah! Nothing to do with todayrsquo;s dumb little locks, all identical, with grooved keys and four screws to be slapped up any old where, which came apart with a blow of your fist. No. Real locks, ingenious, intelligent, personal, custom-made. Hersquo;d built all kinds! Secrets, thief-proof, devilishly clever. But also screaming padlocks that wouldnrsquo;t let themselves be violated, latches that struck back, a stack of sneaky, perplexing little mechanisms to turn the most sensible engineer pale." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Owen yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/30/pseudopod-249-kavar-the-rat/ Pseudopod 248: Killing Merwin Remis http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/a6OrVXCpdyk/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/23/pseudopod-248-killing-merwin-remis/#comments Fri, 23 Sep 2011 11:53:25 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=355 by Jason Helmandollar

Read by Big Anklevich. Yeah. That’s right….

“‘How long?

I’ve already answered the question a dozen times. How many times must I explain? Once more, it seems, although I assure you my story will not change. The facts are the facts. The truth is the truth.

Four months.

It was nearly four months after Merwin Remis moved into the apartment upstairs when I decided to kill him. It was a rational decision – one that came about only after much careful consideration. In the end, I had no other choice. The man was driving me insane.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/23/pseudopod-248-killing-merwin-remis/feed/ 28:11 by Jason Helmandollar Read by Big Anklevich. Yeah. That's right.... "'How long? I've already answered the question a dozen times. How many times must I explain? ... by Jason Helmandollar Read by Big Anklevich. Yeah. That's right.... "'How long? I've already answered the question a dozen times. How many times must I explain? Once more, it seems, although I assure you my story will not change. The facts are the facts. The truth is the truth. Four months. It was nearly four months after Merwin Remis moved into the apartment upstairs when I decided to kill him. It was a rational decision ndash; one that came about only after much careful consideration. In the end, I had no other choice. The man was driving me insane." horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Helmandollar no No http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/23/pseudopod-248-killing-merwin-remis/ Pseduopod 246: The Eater http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/hpHrPtwQoC8/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/09/pseduopod-246-the-eater/#comments Fri, 09 Sep 2011 09:34:16 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=353 by Michael J. DeLuca

Click his name to enter his mossy skull, and also float on over to Weightless Books while you’re at it!

Read by Laurice White, a real Pseudopod hero who went above and beyond! Check her out at It’s Tha Voice!.

I’ve seen the Eater crawling back to his hut from the darkness, contorting and shuddering. We owe him for that. I’ve heard the madness that boils on the Eater’s tongue when he drinks of the froth from the bone-rattle tree. He is the only one who dares to taste it. I’ve seen him walk across the village as though he’s forgotten in which direction lies the earth and which the sky. He goes into the woods alone. After a time, his body has always returned. But he–the Eater I know or think I know, the laughing Eater with his clever tricks and dances–he stays away for even longer, unable to speak or unwilling, somewhere we can never go or see.

Never, that is, unless one of us follows him.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/09/pseduopod-246-the-eater/feed/ 47:14 by Michael J. DeLuca Click his name to enter his mossy skull, and also float on over to Weightless Books while you're at it! Read by Laurice ... by Michael J. DeLuca Click his name to enter his mossy skull, and also float on over to Weightless Books while you're at it! Read by Laurice White, a real Pseudopod hero who went above and beyond! Check her out at It's Tha Voice!. I've seen the Eater crawling back to his hut from the darkness, contorting and shuddering. We owe him for that. I've heard the madness that boils on the Eater's tongue when he drinks of the froth from the bone-rattle tree. He is the only one who dares to taste it. I've seen him walk across the village as though he's forgotten in which direction lies the earth and which the sky. He goes into the woods alone. After a time, his body has always returned. But he--the Eater I know or think I know, the laughing Eater with his clever tricks and dances--he stays away for even longer, unable to speak or unwilling, somewhere we can never go or see. Never, that is, unless one of us follows him. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction DeLuca yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/09/pseduopod-246-the-eater/ Welcome to Pseudopod! http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/tmbJs1poHts/ http://pseudopod.org/2006/10/23/welcome-to-pseudopod/#comments Mon, 23 Oct 2006 04:30:16 +0000 SFEley http://pseudopod.org/2006/10/23/welcome-to-pseudopod/ You’ve found the world’s premier horror fiction podcast. Pseudopod brings you the best short horror in audio form, to take with you anywhere.

WARNING: This is a podcast of horror fiction. The stories presented here are intended to disturb. They are likely to contain death, graphic violence, explicit sex (including sexual violence), hate crimes, blasphemy, or other themes and images that hook deep into your psyche. We do not provide ratings or content warnings. We assume by your listening that you wish to be disturbed for your entertainment. If there are any themes that you cannot deal with in fiction, that are too strongly personal to you, please do not listen.

Pseudopod is for mature audiences only. Hardly any story on Pseudopod is suitable for children. We mean this very seriously.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2006/10/23/welcome-to-pseudopod/feed/ http://pseudopod.org/2006/10/23/welcome-to-pseudopod/ Pseudopod 243: Corps Cadavres http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/PqT2m3Tdxh0/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/22/pseudopod-243-corps-cadavres/#comments Mon, 22 Aug 2011 09:31:44 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=350 by Neil John Buchanan

click the link under his name to enter his dark, dark head.

Read by Alasdair Stewart, the toast of the ethernet set….

“Mayor shuffles in circles; his reins hang from his butchered mouth. His clothes have disintegrated, and his swollen legs have been reduced to black stumps. Doc sways in his saddle, gives a gentle sigh, and slips from his mount.

Doc is already half-turned. We can’t have him go wild. Captain orders Mayor for dispatch, and Sarge steps up for the job.

Mayor looks to the middle distance with cataract eyes, oblivious to his impending ‘second’ death. Sarge unclips Mayor’s head and without preamble removes his brain. Mayor looks confused as if he’s just been told a joke he half-understands and pitches forward to lie dead in the dirt. Captain sets about the body with his ‘taming’ knife, stripping free skin with a practiced hand. When finished, he and Sarge roll Doc in fat so only his face can be seen. He looks like a giant maggot. The wild won’t smell him that way.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/22/pseudopod-243-corps-cadavres/feed/ 19:41 by Neil John Buchanan click the link under his name to enter his dark, dark head. Read by Alasdair Stewart, the toast of the ethernet set.... "Mayor shuffles ... by Neil John Buchanan click the link under his name to enter his dark, dark head. Read by Alasdair Stewart, the toast of the ethernet set.... "Mayor shuffles in circles; his reins hang from his butchered mouth. His clothes have disintegrated, and his swollen legs have been reduced to black stumps. Doc sways in his saddle, gives a gentle sigh, and slips from his mount. Doc is already half-turned. We canrsquo;t have him go wild. Captain orders Mayor for dispatch, and Sarge steps up for the job. Mayor looks to the middle distance with cataract eyes, oblivious to his impending lsquo;secondrsquo; death. Sarge unclips Mayorrsquo;s head and without preamble removes his brain. Mayor looks confused as if hersquo;s just been told a joke he half-understands and pitches forward to lie dead in the dirt. Captain sets about the body with his lsquo;tamingrsquo; knife, stripping free skin with a practiced hand. When finished, he and Sarge roll Doc in fat so only his face can be seen. He looks like a giant maggot. The wild wonrsquo;t smell him that way.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Buchanan yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/22/pseudopod-243-corps-cadavres/ Pseudopod 245: Blue Eyes http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/fm-aNqIlNn8/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/02/pseudopod-245-blue-eyes/#comments Sat, 03 Sep 2011 01:36:53 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=352 by Jay Caselberg

Jay is a member of the Book View Cafe, an online collective of writers publishing many titles in electronic form. Check ‘em out!

Read by Jen Williams, click her name to visit Senny Dreadful!

The man with the dog collar came the other night, standing sweating at the door, thin black hair plastered across his head. Me Mam has dog collars, but he brought his own. He always does. It was too late to go out, not that me Mam would’ve minded, but the streets aren’t safe when it’s dark near our place. So I had to watch.

Me Da wasn’t home. He never is. Or when he is, they fight, the stink of the booze hanging heavy in our two-roomed house.

He stayed for maybe an hour, the man with the dog collar. I watched as he sweated and strained, me Mam’s spiked heel pressed hard against his back, the black leather around his neck cinched tight, stained blacker where the sweat runnelled down from the back of his greasy head. Me Mam caught me looking once or twice and waved my looks away. So I watched the wall instead, pretending to read the old newsprint behind the places where the wallpaper peeled. I asked her once why she did it, but she called me a brat and a stupid little bitch and told me to shut up.

“How else we going to live?” she said.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/02/pseudopod-245-blue-eyes/feed/ 18:34 by Jay Caselberg Jay is a member of the Book View Cafe, an online collective of writers publishing many titles in electronic form. Check 'em ... by Jay Caselberg Jay is a member of the Book View Cafe, an online collective of writers publishing many titles in electronic form. Check 'em out! Read by Jen Williams, click her name to visit Senny Dreadful! The man with the dog collar came the other night, standing sweating at the door, thin black hair plastered across his head. Me Mam has dog collars, but he brought his own. He always does. It was too late to go out, not that me Mam would've minded, but the streets aren't safe when it's dark near our place. So I had to watch. Me Da wasn't home. He never is. Or when he is, they fight, the stink of the booze hanging heavy in our two-roomed house. He stayed for maybe an hour, the man with the dog collar. I watched as he sweated and strained, me Mam's spiked heel pressed hard against his back, the black leather around his neck cinched tight, stained blacker where the sweat runnelled down from the back of his greasy head. Me Mam caught me looking once or twice and waved my looks away. So I watched the wall instead, pretending to read the old newsprint behind the places where the wallpaper peeled. I asked her once why she did it, but she called me a brat and a stupid little bitch and told me to shut up. "How else we going to live?" she said. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Caselberg no No http://pseudopod.org/2011/09/02/pseudopod-245-blue-eyes/ Pseudopod 244: Bruise For Bruise http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/YtocAB-9glk/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/26/pseudopod-244-bruise-for-bruise/#comments Fri, 26 Aug 2011 04:01:34 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=351 by Robert Davies

click the link to check out his blog.

Read by Elizabeth Green Musselman

Sometimes there would be something of the mother in the child, and sometimes something of the father; there was always something of the town. Leathery wings sprouted oftentimes, as common as fingers. Fur of every hue. Horns and scales were plentiful, too. Lots of feathers and thorns and glass and steel. Beneath the apple trees and the pine, anatomy was negotiable. Anything was probable. Every now and then, though, the tired wet nurses, long inured to the strange fecundity of flesh, would whistle in awe as they lifted a newborn from the amniotic slime.

Something truly special would be seen.

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/26/pseudopod-244-bruise-for-bruise/feed/ 26:52 by Robert Davies click the link to check out his blog. Read by Elizabeth Green Musselman Sometimes there would be something of the mother in the child, and ... by Robert Davies click the link to check out his blog. Read by Elizabeth Green Musselman Sometimes there would be something of the mother in the child, and sometimes something of the father; there was always something of the town. Leathery wings sprouted oftentimes, as common as fingers. Fur of every hue. Horns and scales were plentiful, too. Lots of feathers and thorns and glass and steel. Beneath the apple trees and the pine, anatomy was negotiable. Anything was probable. Every now and then, though, the tired wet nurses, long inured to the strange fecundity of flesh, would whistle in awe as they lifted a newborn from the amniotic slime. Something truly special would be seen. horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Davies yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/26/pseudopod-244-bruise-for-bruise/ Pseudopod 243 - slight delay http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/duRh1wN4s30/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/18/pseudopod-243-slight-delay/#comments Thu, 18 Aug 2011 22:45:57 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=349 There will be a slight delay in the arrival of this week’s Pseudopod - no more than a couple of days. While waiting, in preparation, cogitate on this thought:



““Death is a scandal. The machine is functioning, we are all hostages” Elias Canetti

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/18/pseudopod-243-slight-delay/feed/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/18/pseudopod-243-slight-delay/ Pseudopod 242: The 7 Garages of Kevin Simpson http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/8W4HSZTT15Q/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/12/pseudopod-242-the-7-garages-of-kevin-simpson/#comments Fri, 12 Aug 2011 04:01:36 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=348 by Alan Baxter

The text of this story is now available online here.

Read by Graeme Dunlop, our own Kibitzer

“‘Seven garages?’

‘Yes, Mrs Baker. Your father’s will identifies each one and dictates that they have all been left to you, along with the family home.’

Claire sat stunned for several seconds, staring across the solicitor’s desk. ‘Seven garages?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The solicitor was smiling. ‘Mostly on industrial estates, commercial lock-up garages, in suburbs around northern and western Sydney, though there is one on a farm property just outside Burrawang on the Southern Highlands and one in North Bondi.’

Claire looked at Ben. Her husband shrugged. ‘You don’t think this is weird?’ Claire asked him.

‘Sure, it’s weird. But not really any weirder than anything else your old man ever did.’”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/12/pseudopod-242-the-7-garages-of-kevin-simpson/feed/ 29:41 by Alan Baxter The text of this story is now available online here. Read by Graeme Dunlop, our own Kibitzer "lsquo;Seven garages?rsquo; lsquo;Yes, Mrs Baker. Your fatherrsquo;s will ... by Alan Baxter The text of this story is now available online here. Read by Graeme Dunlop, our own Kibitzer "lsquo;Seven garages?rsquo; lsquo;Yes, Mrs Baker. Your fatherrsquo;s will identifies each one and dictates that they have all been left to you, along with the family home.rsquo; Claire sat stunned for several seconds, staring across the solicitorrsquo;s desk. lsquo;Seven garages?rsquo; lsquo;Yes, marsquo;am.rsquo; The solicitor was smiling. lsquo;Mostly on industrial estates, commercial lock-up garages, in suburbs around northern and western Sydney, though there is one on a farm property just outside Burrawang on the Southern Highlands and one in North Bondi.rsquo; Claire looked at Ben. Her husband shrugged. lsquo;You donrsquo;t think this is weird?rsquo; Claire asked him. lsquo;Sure, itrsquo;s weird. But not really any weirder than anything else your old man ever did.rsquo;rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Baxter yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/12/pseudopod-242-the-7-garages-of-kevin-simpson/ Pseudopod 241: In Bloom http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Pseudopod/~3/kjZZWwkS9XU/ http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/05/pseudopod-241-in-bloom/#comments Fri, 05 Aug 2011 04:01:15 +0000 shawn http://pseudopod.org/?p=347 by Caspian Gray

This story originally appeared in the July, 2009 issue of Chizine magazine (although it doesn’t appear to be in their archive any longer).

Read by Julie Hoverson of the wonderful 19 Nocturne Boulevard.

“Willy was waiting for me with his hat in his hands, pinching the brim and rolling it back and forth. I tried to smile to show him how it would go, but in the dark I don’t know if he saw anything but teeth.

Papa keeps the gate greased, so it opened real silent, and Willy only took a moment to follow me in.

“Are those them?” he asked, pointing at the flowers that keep the dead down.

“They are. You’re lucky they’re just buds now, though. Once they bloom they’ll smell something awful.”

The window in my bedroom faced the garden, so all August I had to smell them flowers. They was big showy things, with a stink like jasmines and gardenias and lilies of the valley all tied up with twine and then tossed in the river to rot. They said it was the smell that warped my family into thinking it was okay to handle the dead, but the truth is it wasn’t so bad, and you never had to be warped at all just to dig a hole and put something in it.”

]]> http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/05/pseudopod-241-in-bloom/feed/ 23:02 by Caspian Gray This story originally appeared in the July, 2009 issue of Chizine magazine (although it doesn't appear to be in their archive any longer). Read ... by Caspian Gray This story originally appeared in the July, 2009 issue of Chizine magazine (although it doesn't appear to be in their archive any longer). Read by Julie Hoverson of the wonderful 19 Nocturne Boulevard. "Willy was waiting for me with his hat in his hands, pinching the brim and rolling it back and forth. I tried to smile to show him how it would go, but in the dark I don't know if he saw anything but teeth. Papa keeps the gate greased, so it opened real silent, and Willy only took a moment to follow me in. "Are those them?" he asked, pointing at the flowers that keep the dead down. "They are. You're lucky they're just buds now, though. Once they bloom they'll smell something awful." The window in my bedroom faced the garden, so all August I had to smell them flowers. They was big showy things, with a stink like jasmines and gardenias and lilies of the valley all tied up with twine and then tossed in the river to rot. They said it was the smell that warped my family into thinking it was okay to handle the dead, but the truth is it wasn't so bad, and you never had to be warped at all just to dig a hole and put something in it.rdquo; horror,,short,stories,,stories,,storytelling,,scary,,horror,stories,,fiction Gray yes No http://pseudopod.org/2011/08/05/pseudopod-241-in-bloom/