Archive for November, 2010

PodCastle 133: And the Blood of Dead Gods Shall Mark the Score

Show Notes

Rated R for: violence, language and adult themes.

This week’s episode is sponsored by METAtropolis: Cascadia

And the Blood of Dead Gods Shall Mark the Score

by Gary Kloster

Huck smiled, and his smile stretched the pink rift of scar tissue that ran up from the corner of his jaw, across the twisted pit of his ruined right eye and onto his broad forehead. Before Nikolai’s betrayal, Huck’s face had been sternly handsome and the blood tatted into his dark skin had shone like lightning. That tat’s magic had made him beautiful and terrifying, like a storm rolling, and with a look he could make all the world his bitch. Now, left with just the scar and the spark of rage that still burned in the depths of his remaining eye, he had to be content with just scaring people shitless.

“Tribals are crap, redneck poser ink. Do yourself a favor and piss off.”

Two minutes after Huck banged in and my only customer that whole damn day was sulking out, a black dot of ink no bigger than a pimple hidden beneath his shirt. “Follow him out, Huck,” I said as the door rattled shut and I trashed the ink that I’d laid out for the job. “We’re done, remember?”

PodCastle 132: Flash Fiction Contest Extravaganza

Show Notes

Rated G: Happy Thanksgiving!

For this week’s episode, we have something a little bit different for you: PodCastle is proud to present the winners of our Flash Fiction Contest, as voted by members of our forum.

Third Prize:
“The Water Sprite” by Alicia Caporaso
Read by Jack Mangan (of Jack Mangan’s Deadpan)

Second Prize:
“Bibliophages” by Ramona Gardea
Read by Wilson Fowlie (of the Maple Leaf Singers)

First Prize:
“Fetch” by Nathaniel Lee
Read by Peter Wood

Rated G: Happy Thanksgiving!

PodCastle 131: Skatouioannis

Show Notes

Rated R: For language, and other shit.

Cooks Source links: Copyright Follies


by Nick Mamatas

The first time Skatouioannis made an appearance was the morning of the SATs. I had just started the ignition and was pulling out of the driveway when the ground gave way. It felt like I had hit a speed bump, or a kid, then it all went black. The edge of a shovel and a drizzle of broken glass woke me up – he was there, a silhouette with the sun behind his head, branches and telephone wires criss-crossing the sky, poking away at the windshield of my car, which was standing nearly straight up, the trunk and back seat in the sinkhole left by the collapsed septic tank. A mostly empty septic tank. The shovel came down hard.

I woke up in the hospital three days later, my first year’s tuition already spent on a new septic tank and driveway. Plus the medical bills. If there were big muddy footprints all around the front yard, they had been swept away before the doctors let me go home. Old, empty septic tanks collapse all the time, you know. It was another two seasons of mowing lawns for the little old ladies my mother knew from church before I actually got to go to school.

PodCastle 130: Chemical Magic

Show Notes

Rated R: Contains Adult Themes

Chemical Magic

by Katherine Sparrow

Two months earlier the magician stood on the dance floor wondering how to magic his feet into graceful motion rather than the choppy glitched movement of a thirteen-year-old boy. He hated his dancing, but hated more those men who stood in the club’s shadows and watched without ever moving their bodies. So he bounced and swayed while his elbows jerked backwards in a hopeless gesture.

He hit something soft that squished and said “Ow.” He turned around to see a woman holding her breast and glaring at him. She had the kind of breasts he loved: round and droopy.

“Sorry,” he mouthed over the bass boom. She rolled her eyes.

He tried to elbow himself in the chest; it only seemed fair. But the laws of physics only allowed him a blow to the belly. At least it made her smile a little. It turned her hard-edged face lovely for a moment.