PseudoPod
Rásarupplýsingar
PseudoPod
The Sound of Horror
Nýlegir þættir
353 þættir
PseudoPod 1040: Flash on the Borderlands LXXIX (79): Ubi amor, ibi dolor
Ubi amor, ibi dolor – where there is love, there is pain “Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.” – C. S. Lewis No one knows...
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PseudoPod 1039: The Song of the Living
When the trees start to smell sharp and crisp, I know The Dead Things are coming. That warning scent perfumes the air now. The fading summer gale bell...
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PseudoPod 1038: Red Ripper
Listen, I could still stretch half you pups if I felt like it. Sit down and learn something about the business. Did I ever tell you about the Red Ripp...
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PseudoPod 1037: Playing Tricks
Dina had never seen her dad cry until the day he left. His face was puffy and wet with tears when he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you soon...
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PseudoPod 1036: A Greater Dark
Gray sheets of rain as the door bangs in, Willard and his men materializing in that opaque haze and shaking the wet from their long coats. They assess...
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PseudoPod 1035: Interstate Mohinis
In the way of Death runs the Vaitarani river. We are flayed open to its woe. We are always aware of its currents in gurgling lungfuls of unease. Time...
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PseudoPod 1034: Only In The Dark
The crackling sound of static fills the room as the screen lights up. We see a simple landscape with some rocks and trees. The outline of a bird appea...
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PseudoPod 1033: Devil is Fine
I ain’t a good man, but that don’t mean I like doing bad things. Not everyone is afforded the choice. Not truly, anyhow, but I’ve accepted that one da...
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PseudoPod 1032: Flash on the Borderlands LXXVIII (78): Terraeque urbesque recedant
“We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us.” “Again?” “Every damn time,” Kate said, running a hand through her hair. “Aren’t there supposed to...
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PseudoPod 1031: Her Skin
He found her in Hells Canyon. After that, my friend Oss liked to brag about how he’d gone fishing in the Snake River and caught a wife instead, but I...
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PseudoPod 1030: Keeping Up With the Conan Doyles
From the Journals of the Society for Psychical Research. Interview with Angela Patterson, housekeeper of Latham Hall, present at the last séance of Ne...
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PseudoPod 1029: Feeding the Choke-Tree
“Straws,” I said. “Why straws?” “Because they’re cute, obviously,” said Foreman. “Don’t you think?” I squinted at them. Nearly a dozen were inching ar...
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PseudoPod 1028: All The Eyes That See
Sitting on the neatly upholstered chair in the tiny office I try not to let my frustration show. “Really, nothing at all?” “Not in town.” The real est...
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PseudoPod 1027: This Thing of Darkness
7 days to go: Smoothing down the lush, black dirt with a flat hand, I try to think about the seeds I’ve just planted. They won’t come up for weeks. Wh...
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PseudoPod 1026: Thoughts and Prayers
he’s over by the gym Maddie’s phone buzzed once and she glanced down and saw the text. She had long schooled her face to not react to notifications, b...
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PseudoPod 1025: Impostor Syndrome
Looking back, the first red flag was during the job interview, when Chad said their target demographic was males, ages thirteen to seventeen. “That’s...
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PseudoPod 1024: Flash on the Borderlands LXXVII (77): The Only Enemy You Can’t Live Without
“More salt on the places that never healed” – Holly Green ‘Rather left the others behind, haven’t we, Miss Custance?’ said the captain, looking back t...
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PseudoPod 1023: Grandifolia
The first time I do everything the way I’m supposed to. I wait for the new moon and walk into the woods at midnight. I carry a jar of pig’s blood and...
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PseudoPod 1022: All the Good You Did Not Do
When the doors slide open, the screams escape. Saul is summoned from his security podium by the researchers’ howls, and he slides in his formal unifor...
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PseudoPod 1021: Bad Doors
The country was at just over ten thousand deaths the morning that the door appeared. On Kosmo’s phone NPR was interviewing a doctor with a nasal voice...
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PseudoPod 1020: Walking Tour of Scarborough in Nuclear Winter
The tour starts the same way they all do—in the Spa’s outdoor suncourt, as the bloated, swollen sun tries its best to pierce the eternal grey clouds a...
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PseudoPod 1019: Superstition
The strangest gig I ever had was fetish destruction. In July of 1995 I answered an ad in a newspaper asking for a reliable messenger and administrativ...
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PseudoPod 1018: The Polyamorous Heart of Death
You took her story like an organ removed in the night by a stranger she thought she knew. Victorian mummy unwrapping parties move in parallel to the k...
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PseudoPod 1017: In the Hands of a Different God
It was Daddy who taught me to sew. I’d made three patch quilts and was starting on the fourth before he let me touch a patient. That was my mother’s w...
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PseudoPod 1016: Flash on the Borderlands LXXVI (76): Illume the Kingdom of the Drowned
Were it not for that four-inch scar upon my forehead, I would have thought it a nightmare — some ghastly hallucination, even though it happened in bro...
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PseudoPod 1015: What Haunts the Newbuild?
If the dead who loved her haunt an old home’s bones, what haunts the newbuild? What makes her creak and moan? Every house is a violence—and a weathere...
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PseudoPod 1014: Faith, Hope and Charity
Just outside a sizable New Mexico town the second section of the fast through train coming from the Coast made a short halt. Entering the stretch lead...
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PseudoPod 1013: The End Of The Story
The following narrative was found among the papers of Christophe Morand, a young law-student of Tours, after his unaccountable disappearance during a...
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PseudoPod 1012: The Book
On a foggy night in November, Mr. Corbett, having guessed the murderer by the third chapter of his detective story, arose in disappointment from his b...
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PseudoPod 1011: Tailpiece and The Second Awakening of a Magician
My son Augustus, in the street, one day, Was feeling quite exceptionally merry. A stranger asked him: ‘Can you tell me, pray, The quickest way to Brom...
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PseudoPod 1010: A Rose For Emily
I When Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women m...
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PseudoPod 1009: Christmas Eve at Beach House
It seemed as if the Mackenzies were under a spell, and that none of the men were ever destined to die in their beds. We sometimes see this strange law...
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PseudoPod 1008: Cyanide Constellations
In the daylight, I pretend nothing can hurt me, but we both know that has never been true. What hides in shadow or creeps through the night must exist...
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PseudoPod 1007: The Children of the Event
The first person to see the wave was a fisherman. Like most of his kind, he was strong, fond of water, and a heavy drinker; he wore rubber boots and a...
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PseudoPod 1006: Give A Dog A Bone
A dog always remembers where he buries a bone. Wolves, not so much. Wolves aren’t the burying type. They don’t save for later, because they know they...
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PseudoPod 1005: Do It
It’s early March 1993 and Generation X sorely needs an antihero. Not a folk hero, you fucking hippies. Not a sponsored, manufactured musician in Chuck...
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PseudoPod 1004: Madame Painte: For Sale
“This?” the man behind the counter says. “Why, this is Madame Painte.” The figure is short, a foot and a half tall, and squat, about the same dimensio...
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PseudoPod 1003: House Traveler
The five of us were gathered on the floor of one of the last houses, trying to decide which of the group would be the one to go outside. Sitting aroun...
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PseudoPod 1002: The Squatters
The government begins excavating the bones in late February to coincide with the events planned to commemorate the massacre. It is meant to gesture th...
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PseudoPod 1001: A Coven of Cats Under the Light of the Moon and The Halloween Parade
On this night, we escaped from our homes—we darted through the open doors, we leaped over the privacy fences, we fled under-bush to converge on this p...
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