Hart and Boot

by Tim Pratt

“You have any money?” Pearl said. She didn’t have any more bullets, but she could hit him on the head with her gun, if he had something worth stealing.

“I don’t think so.”

She sighed. “Get out of that hole. I’m getting a crick in my neck, looking down at you.”

He climbed out and stood before her, covered in dirt from head to toe, naked except for a pair of better-than-average boots. Hardly standard uniform for a miner, but she didn’t get flustered. She’d seen her share of naked men during her eighteen years on earth, and she had to admit he was one of the nicest she’d seen, dirt and all, with those broad shoulders. Back in Canada (after seeing the Wild West show, but before deciding to leave her husband) she’d had several dreams about a tall, faceless man coming toward her bed, naked except for cowboy boots.

Apart from the dirt, and the lack of a bed, and her not being asleep and all, this was just like the dream.

Happy Valentine’s Day from PodCastle!

Long time listeners may remember that about a year and a half ago, PodCastle published Daniel Abraham’s “The Curandero and the Swede: A Tale from the 1001 American Nights.” Unfortunately, there were some technical difficulties, and the sound quality was extremely poor. We’d hoped to get back together with Kip Manley, who originally recorded it, but that never worked out. However, with Mr. Abraham’s blessing, we’ve re-recorded his fantastic story for all of you, and are happy to bring it to you this Valentine’s Day.

We’ve both replaced the original file, and put the new recording up in this post for your convenience. Enjoy!

ETA: Well, this is humiliating. It turns out that there were some blips – repeated lines, etc. in the narration. If you haven’t listened yet, you should probably late until the corrected version gets posted. Apologies to everyone, especially to Mr. Abraham. We’ll have it fixed as soon as possible.

ETA 2: Thanks to everyone for your patience. The audio has been corrected.

Hurt Me

by M.L.N. Hanover

“It’s a good, solid house,” he said, nodding as a trick to make her nod along with him.

“It is,” she said.  “The price seems low.”

“Motivated seller,” he said with a wink.

“By what?”  She opened and closed the kitchen cabinets.

“Excuse me?”

“Motivated by what?” she said.

“Well, you know how it is,” he said, grinning.  “Kids grow up, move on.  Families change.  A place maybe fits in one part of your life, and then you move on.”

She smiled as if he’d said something funny.

“I don’t know, actually,” she said.  “The seller moved out because she got tired of the place?”

The realtor shrugged expansively, his mental gears whirring.  The question felt like a trap.  He wondered how much the woman had heard about the house.  He couldn’t afford to get caught in an outright lie.

Terrible Ones

by Tim Pratt

Someone coughed, and Zara opened her eyes and lifted her head. “Holy shit,” she said.

The Greek Chorus was back—when had they gotten on the train? They must have come from another car, creeping quietly, sliding open the adjoining doors without a squeak. Or, more likely, Zara had fallen asleep, and just hadn’t noticed them. They stood in the middle of the aisle, holding onto the grabrail above their heads, though there were any number of empty seats. They all stared at her, silently, swaying a little with the movement of the train.

Zara thought about getting up and going to another car, but what if they followed her? “This had better be a coincidence,” she said. “We just happen to be going in the same direction, right? You aren’t following me, are you?”

(Continue Reading…)