Archive for Podcasts

PodCastle 487: A Whisper in the Weld


by Alix E. Harrow

read by Stephanie Morris

Previously published by Shimmer

Rated PG-13.

Isa died in a sudden suffocation of boiling blood and iron cinder in her mouth; she returned to herself wearing a blue cotton dress stained with fresh tobacco. She was younger and leaner, as she’d been when she first met Leslie Bell. Her skin shone dark and warm without the black dust of the mill ground into it. After death, ghosts are sculpted like cold clay into the shapes they wore when they were most alive. Some people are taken awfully by surprise. Women whose whole lives were about their husbands and homes are, without warning, precisely as they were when they met a stranger’s eyes on a crowded streetcar. Men who had the kinds of careers that involved velvet-lined train cars and cigar smoke are suddenly nine years old, running their spectral fingers through the tall grasses and thinking of nothing at all.

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Alix E. Harrow PhotoAlix is a part-time historian with a full-time desk job, a debilitating re-reading habit, and authorial ambitions. She and her husband live in Kentucky under the cheerful tyranny of their one year old. Her most recent story—“The Autobiography of a Traitor and a Half-Savage”—is available on Tor.com.

Stephanie Morris PhotoStephanie is a professional fangirl by day and the lone library assistant staffing a college circulation desk at night. She has narrated short stories for PseudoPod, PodCastle, Escape Pod, Cast of Wonders, and StarShipSofa, guest-blogged on subjects ranging from book recommendations to zombie turkeys, and performed Shakespeare in a handful of weird churches. Until she suppresses her inner perfectionist enough to create a website, you can find her on Twitter at @smaliamorris.

PodCastle 486: Hyddwen


by Heather Rose Jones

read by Pip Hoskins

hosted by Rachael K. Jones

A PodCastle Original!

Rated PG-13.

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Morvyth verch Rys na vynnei wr, o achaws y serch, a’r caryat a dodassei hi ar Elin, Arglwyddes Madrunion. A guedy daruot a dywedyssam ni uchot–anvon y gwylan yn llatai attei, a’r chwarae a’r got yn y wled, a gyrru’r Gwyddel i ymdeith yn waclaw–dyvod a wnaeth Morvyth hyt yn Llyswen. Ac yno y trulyssant teir blyned trwy digrivwch a llywenyd.

Morvyth, the daughter of Rys, had no desire for a husband because of the passion and the love she had for Elin, the Lady of Madrunion. And after what we spoke of above–sending the gull as love-messenger to her, and the trick with the sack at the wedding feast, and sending the Irishman away empty-handed–Morvyth came to live at Llyswen. And there they spent three years in happiness and joy.

Heather Rose JonesHeather Rose Jones write stories at the intersection of history and fantasy, usually centering around women’s lives and relationships. In addition to short fiction, I’m writing an epic-length Regency-era Ruritanian historic fantasy. The Alpennia series is currently at three novels, the most recent being Mother of Souls. Outside of writing, I work as an industrial failure analyst in biotech pharmaceutical manufacturing, which is far more exciting than it may sound. And as an additional hobby, I blog about source materials for lesbian history at alpennia.com.

Pip HoskinsTwitch streamer by day and avid dancer and writer by night, Pip Hoskins is a lady with several strings to her bow and not enough sleep in her schedule! She streams and reviews gameplay every weekday through Twitchyou can find her at www.Twitch.tv/TinyPixxels.

PodCastle 485: Cassandra Writes Out of Order


by Andrea Tang

read by Sandra Espinoza

hosted by Matt Dovey

A PodCastle Original!

Rated PG-13.

The man from the government says, “We know the shape of the world right now, of course. That’s our job. The one we’re offering you is a little different.”

“Different how?”

The man from the government asks, “Can you tell us what the shape of the world will be tomorrow?”

Marisol’s fountain pen pauses. She sticks it between her teeth and smiles around the plastic. “All right.”

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Andrea TangWriter by inclination and international affairs analyst by trade, Andrea Tang is a recovering liberal arts grad who likes asking questions about how different cultures—and by extension, different people—collide, mix, or otherwise converse with each other. In the world beyond her notebook, she enjoys martial arts, theater, and ruining beloved musicals by remixing show tune lyrics with hot takes on global politics. Her other short fiction is forthcoming from Apex Magazine and GigaNotoSaurus.

Sandra EspinozaSandra is a New York born and raised voice actress with a background in English literature and writing. After a childhood where video games were banned from the house, she one-eighty’d so hard she’s finally in them and never leaving. Voice over training in between jobs, fan projects she created for her favorite games soon gained recognition and lead to her first paid role with Wadjet Eye Games.

Some games Sandra’s voiced for include the Primordia, Apotheon, Heroes of Newerth, Marvel’s Avengers Academy, and most recently Brawl Stars by Clash of Clans developer Supercell. She also provides voice over and editing services for countless lifestyle and education podcasts. When she’s not voice acting you can catch her on Twitter or Facebook under the handle “DustyOldRoses,” obsessing over good food, good games and the color pink.

PodCastle 484: Flash Fiction Extravaganza! Seasons


In Spring, the Dawn. In Summer, the Night.by Aidan Doyle.

Read by Nina Brady.

It always seems to me that people who hate me must be suffering from some strange form of lunacy. – Sei Shōnagon, The Pillow Book, Circa1000 C.E.

On the third day of the third month, the good people of court traveled by ox-drawn carriage from the Imperial Palace to the Divine Spring Garden, the carriage boys running ahead to ensure the common people didn’t block our way. The colored sleeves of so many elegant ladies showing through the curtains must have been a wondrous sight as the carriages rattled past.

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“Autumn Jewels” by Shveta Thakrar.

Read by Ramakrishnan M.

On the third of the nine nights of Navratri, the celebration honoring goddess Durga, a call slight as spider silk murmured through the temple. Most revelers heard nothing, but four-year-old Bhavna eluded her mother’s watchful eye long enough to sneak out of the saturated colors and lively music of garba, past a wild pumpkin patch, and into the night-shrouded woods beyond.

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“Winter Witch” by Matt Dovey.

Read by Julie Hoverson.

I feel their grief moving through the forest. It is like a buried splinter tugging at my skin, working its way further inside. In part this is my deep intimacy with these woods, nurtured through all my thirty years, and in part it is the soft sound of their sobbing, carried through still air that is thick with pine and decay and more.

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Rated PG-13.