Recent Posts

1

About Pseudopod / Oni In A Box

« Last post by Xaltuthus on April 04, 2023, 04:35:24 PM »

Not sure if this is supposed to be posted in Episode Comments or not, but I didn't see a button to create a new post there.

I was wondering if anyone had more information about the folklore mentioned in the post episode discussion. I'm not sure how to spell it so my Google searches aren't bringing up many results.

Also, does anyone know of any podcasts that discuss yokai and other folklore? I found a couple podcasts on Spotify but none of them really piqued my interest.

2

Gallimaufry / Re: New Member/Listeners

« Last post by Beth HC on March 23, 2023, 08:56:54 PM »

Hello from the confluence of the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers!
I thought I was a novelist until I never finished any. Then I decided to write haiku, just to finish something! After that success - even published a few - I'm working up to short stories and hope to submit some here. And listen to more of the wonderful thoughts and authors EA publishes.

And, wow, how hard it is to post. I've been looking for the answer to Title of story in Escape Pod Episode 1 for over 10 minutes. I am not a newbie at searching. Finally found it. You have to have a colon in the search.

3

Episode Comments / CoW Ep. 530: Because Change Was the Ocean and We Lived By Her Mercy

« Last post by Languorous Lass on March 12, 2023, 11:06:25 PM »

Cast of Wonders 530: Because Change Was the Ocean and We Lived By Her Mercy

• Author: Charlie Jane Anders
• Narrator: Serah Eley
• Host: Katherine Inskip
• Audio Producer: Jeremy Carter

"Because Change Was the Ocean and We Lived By Her Mercy" was originally published in Lightspeed Magazine, December 2017.

Click here to listen to Episode 530

Content Warning:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Swearing (including the f-word) and references to drug use.

1. This was sacred, this was stolen

We stood naked on the shore of Bernal and watched the candles float across the bay, swept by a lazy current off to the north, in the direction of Potrero Island. A dozen or so candles stayed afloat and alight after half a league, their tiny flames bobbing up and down, casting long yellow reflections on the dark water alongside the streaks of moonlight. At times I fancied the candlelight could filter down onto streets and buildings, the old automobiles and houses full of children’s toys, all the waterlogged treasures of long-gone people. We held hands, twenty or thirty of us, and watched the little candle-boats we’d made as they floated away. Joconda was humming an old reconstructed song about the wild road, hir beard full of flowers. We all just about held our breath. I felt my bare skin go electric with the intensity of the moment, like this could be the good time we’d all remember in the bad times to come. This was sacred, this was stolen. And then someone—probably Miranda—farted, and then we were all laughing, and the grown-up seriousness was gone. We were all busting up and falling over each other on the rocky ground, in a nude heap, scraping our knees and giggling into each other’s limbs. When we got our breath back and looked up, the candles were all gone.

Tags:  Charlie Jane Anders, communities, ecological fiction, friendship, hope, Jeremy Carter, Katherine Inskip, LGBTQ, love, post-apocalyptic, scavenging, Serah Eley, technology, young adult fiction

4

Episode Comments / CoW Ep. 529: Little Wonders 37 – Seeking Connections

« Last post by Languorous Lass on March 12, 2023, 10:40:26 PM »

Cast of Wonders 529: Little Wonders 37 – Seeking Connections

• Authors: Marie Vibbert and Sylvia Heike
• Narrators: Roderick Aust and Samuel Poots
• Host: Katherine Inskip
• Audio Producer: Jeremy Carter

“Haunting the Docks” is a Cast of Wonders original.
"Birding With My Human"  was originally published in Nature Futures, July 7, 2021 (paywall).

Click here to listen to Episode 529


"Haunting the Docks" by Marie Vibbert

No one comes to my dock anymore. It’s so empty I can hear the ping of metal struts relaxing. The sounds of life elsewhere on the station, transmitted through multiple bulkheads, are muted, inchoate moans. I cycle through checks on systems unperturbed by human hands. I tidy what is already tidy.

I’m so bored. I power on a tug-drone.

“Aft Supplemental Dock Petty Tug Drone 2 reporting for duty. You can call me Pettie!” Her voice abruptly loses its chipper tone. “Oh, it’s you.”


"Birding With My Human" by Sylvia Heike

We climb the steps of the bird tower, the soft shuffle of Willa’s sneakers on the wood ascending first, the dull metal march of my feet following close behind. It’s five-thirty on a Sunday morning, and we’re the first ones here—unless you count the birds, which I will, very soon.

It’s windy at the top, clouds rushing across blue, droneless skies. Willa adjusts the old fishing hat on my head, tugging at the frayed edges. It belonged to her grandfather, and she doesn’t want it to be swept into the lake. She tilts her head, robin-like, and smiles. “It looks good on you.”

I’ll take her word for it.


Tags:  AI, birds, communication, connection, friendship, humor, Jeremy Carter, Katherine Inskip, Little Wonders, Marie Vibbert, misunderstood, robots, Roderick Aust, Samuel Poots, space, Sylvia Heike, young adult fiction

5

Episode Comments / CoW Ep. 528: Notes from a trans-inclusive gender apocalypse

« Last post by Languorous Lass on March 09, 2023, 04:37:52 AM »

Cast of Wonders 528: Notes from a trans-inclusive gender apocalypse

• Author: Ember Randall
• Narrator: Jordan Kurella
• Host: Katherine Inskip
• Audio Producer: Jeremy Carter

"Notes from a trans-inclusive gender apocalypse" is a Cast of Wonders original.

Click here to listen to Episode 528

Content Warning:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Use of the f-word, gender dysphoria, mild elements of body-horror

May 10

Firestorm (12:05 PM): You know, given all the possibilities for an apocalypse, this wasn’t the one I expected us to see. At least not first.

Kazumi (12:31 PM):  Did you see the good news, though? The Bureau for Magical Mismanagement think they’ve isolated the cause! Some sort of ritual gone wrong, something targeting men–and they think they’ve even identified which story the group was using for a basis for it! They’re calling for any female practitioners who are willing and able to come to Spiregate to join a ritual to undo it.

Firestorm (12:35 PM):  Only female mages, huh?

Shapeshifter (12:36 PM):  Fuck. I hope it works. I keep waking up and wondering if this’ll be the morning the flowers take over enough that they can’t be uprooted next time it’s a girl day.

Tags:  ace/aro, apocalypse, body horror, Ember Randall, gender, gender dysphoria, gender identity, individuality, Jeremy Carter, Jordan Kurella, Katherine Inskip, LGBTQ, magic, programming, rituals, trans visibility, transformation, transgender,  young adult fiction

6

Episode Comments / PC775: The Morthouse

« Last post by Ocicat on February 26, 2023, 02:46:55 AM »

PodCastle 775: “The Morthouse”

Author: Maria Haskins
Narrator: Eleanor R. Wood
Host: Matt Dovey
Audio Producer: Devin Martin

Previously published by The Deadlands #12

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Content Warning:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Contents Warning for the death of a child

Show Notes
Rated PG-13




In her forty-two years on God’s wide Earth, Gerda has read no books other than The Bible and Luther’s Small Catechism, but once, after Sunday service, she heard the sexton say that there are places where the dead traverse a river after death, paying a boatsman to ferry them across the water. Gerda knows such a thing must be either blasphemy or fable, and she knows for certain the dead will find no passage here, not this far north in Sweden, not in January when both the creek and inlet by the village lie frozen, the murky, brackish waters of the Gulf of Bothnia slumbering below windswept ice.

Here, in winter, the dead go nowhere at all, not even into the ground.


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7

Episode Comments / EP 876 The Hagfish Has Three Hearts

« Last post by Nicole Parent on February 23, 2023, 02:34:58 AM »

I both really loved the concept of this episode, bio engineered diplomat has to balance small town politics with the demands of the whales who humanity has to bargain with in order to have any access to the sea, and was impressed by Noma being crossed with a hagfish of all the possible ocean creatures. I always personally thought that the hagfish was very gross, so I appreciated how this story helped me see the deep ocean creatures in a different light.

I did think that the town was really lucky, in that it seems to be able to exist without being taken over by some warring group. I would think that this would happen since the town is resource rich, and there seems to be no national government to protect it. However, the world of this story seems to have dramatically changed, and its possible that everyone else has other things to worry about.

Finally, I also thought that the fish becoming sentient was a really interesting plot twist. I liked the ending where Noma was able to successfully convince Alfreda that the fish now have the intelligence of people, and should not be eaten. I have to wonder if this will someday happen with animals like the octopus, who are so smart that they easily get bored in captivity, and often successfully escape their tanks. It did make me think, at what point does an animal get too smart to be eaten? And, should humanity be thinking about this more?

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Episode Comments / PC774: Yung Lich and the Dance of Death

« Last post by Ocicat on February 19, 2023, 04:52:16 AM »

PodCastle 774: Yung Lich and the Dance of Death

Author: Alex Fox
Narrator: Eric Valdes
Host: Matt Dovey
Audio Producer: Eric Valdes

PodCastle 774: Yung Lich and the Dance of Death is a PodCastle original.

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Show Notes
Rated PG-13


 

My Christian name was Thomas Kanfor but ever since that bastard wizard rose me from the grave I go by Yung Lich. On that moonless night he spoke some words from a tattered grimoire over my naked, somewhat-recently-dead corpse and voila, here I am. He called me a “Young Lich”. When you’re newly risen you don’t remember much else , so I took that as my new name. I changed “Young” to “Yung” because I think it reads a bit fresher, and when you’re trying to break into the hip-hop scene, you gotta be fresh .

People can’t tell I’m dead unless I remove the mask. They think it’s part of my act. I stand outside of Times Square with my whole getup — long, black, hooded cloak, a ghastly off-brand Scream mask, an old gnarled branch. I lean and spookily sway and try to hand out my mixtapes. I mean, shoot. If there’s one cool thing about being given a second chance it’s that you know what’s important and what’s not. I never had the gall to pursue a career in music while living. Nah. Wouldn’t pay the bills, wouldn’t make my mom proud. But now? I’m free to be me . . .

“Want my mixtape?” I wheeze in my dry-as-sawdust voice to a small group waiting for the crosswalk. I extend a robed arm, a white CD in my hand. Across the front is the Sharpie-scrawled label Yung Lich — The Dance of Death. They hardly look my way, and don’t seem to appreciate my pestering.

A man shoves my arm aside and fingers an earbud out of his ear. “Ain’t no one got CD players anymore, pal. Try Soundcloud.”

The crosswalk changes and the folk quickly scramble across the street. My arm falls, dejected. Even though in this “life” I can pursue my true interests, that doesn’t mean anyone is interested in what I have to say. Been standing here for weeks on end and only four people have taken my mixtape, and I think only to be nice, as I saw two of them toss the CDs in the garbage once they crossed.

And what that man said rings true: not that many people have CD players these days. Guess I’m slow to accept change, but I know I need to adapt if I want to get my music out there. I’ve got an old laptop. I can look into Soundcloud — it’s something to go on, at least.

I gather my things and hobble to the Corner Café. They know me there. They let me use the Wi-Fi even though I never buy coffee. I don’t need to eat or drink much, or at all, really — tends to leak out of my swiss-cheesed stomach.

A few people idle in the café, and they look up as I open the glass door, a small bell tinkering to announce my arrival. I keep my head down, my hands well within my long sleeves, even as I hold the obnoxiously tall wooden staff. The staff double-bangs the bell as I amble through, loud as a cymbal crash, and I shrink into myself.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mutter. Wooden chairs creak as the patrons turn to watch me, this weirdo in the horror getup. I try not to pay attention to them. I mosey on to my usual corner, sit, and pull out my laptop. Soon I’m forgotten, like all the other freaks of the city.

On my laptop screen glows a text file with the lyrics of my finest work, “The Dance of Death.” I read it once, twice.


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9

Episode Comments / Re: Pseudopod 285: Kill Screen

« Last post by ElrathiaKing on February 13, 2023, 04:23:03 PM »

Hello. Here I am over a decade after this was originally published to say I'm listening to the archive and it freaked me the heck out. I had it playing quietly on my phone while I walked my dog because I didn't want to pause it.

10

Episode Comments / PC73: Housing Problem

« Last post by Ocicat on February 11, 2023, 06:20:51 AM »

PodCastle 773: Housing Problem

Authors: C. L. Moore and Henry Kuttner
Narrator: John Bell
Host: Alex Hofelich
Audio Producer: Eric Valdes

Originally published by Charm, October 1944

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Show Notes
Rated PG


 

Jacqueline said it was a canary, but I contended that there were a couple of lovebirds in the covered cage. One canary could never make that much fuss. Besides, I liked to think of crusty old Mr. Henchard keeping lovebirds; it was so completely inappropriate. But whatever our roomer kept in that cage by his window, he shielded it — or them — jealously from prying eyes. All we had to go by were the noises.

And they weren’t too simple to figure out. From under the cretonne cloth came shufflings, rustlings, occasional faint and inexplicable pops, and once or twice a tiny thump that made the whole hidden cage shake on its redwood pedestal-stand. Mr. Henchard must have known that we were curious. But all he said when Jackie remarked that birds were nice to have around, was “Claptrap! Leave that cage alone, d’ya hear?”

That made us a little mad. We’re not snoopers, and after that brush-off, we coldly refused to even look at the shrouded cretonne shape. We didn’t want to lose Mr. Henchard, either. Roomers were surprisingly hard to get. Our little house was on the coast highway; the town was a couple of dozen homes, a grocery, a liquor store, the post office, and Terry’s restaurant. That was about all. Every morning Jackie and I hopped the bus and rode in to the factory, an hour away. By the time we got home, we were pretty tired. We couldn’t get any household help — war jobs paid a lot better — so we both pitched in and cleaned. As for cooking, we were Terry’s best customers.

The wages were good, but before the war we’d run up too many debts, so we needed extra dough.

And that’s why we rented a room to Mr. Henchard. Off the beaten track with transportation difficult, and with the coast dimout every night, it wasn’t too easy to get a roomer. Mr. Henchard looked like a natural. He was, we figured, too old to get into mischief.

One day he wandered in, paid a deposit; presently he showed up with a huge Gladstone and a square canvas grip with leather handles. He was a creaking little old man with a bristling tonsure of stiff hair and a face like Popeye’s father, only more human. He wasn’t sour; he was just crusty. I had a feeling he’d spent most of his life in furnished rooms, minding his own business and puffing innumerable cigarettes through a long black holder. But he wasn’t one of those lonely old men you could safely feel sorry for— far from it! He wasn’t poor and he was completely self-sufficient. We loved him. I called him grandpa once, in an outburst of affection, and my skin blistered at the resultant remarks.

Some people are born under lucky stars. Mr. Henchard was like that. He was always finding money in the street. The few times we shot craps or played poker, he made passes and held straights without even trying. No question of sharp dealing — he was just lucky.



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