Genres: Fantasy
They will tell me, later, I was born singing. I wasn’t. I was born like all children are born, in one bloody, wailing, messy push. But I was born on fire. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy
I stood on the platform bundled up in one of my pa’s old work coats, its stained, fraying cuffs hanging well past my fingertips. The acrid stink of magic was thick in the air, rolling off the engine in hot waves. My ma took me by the shoulders and shook me, her fingers cold and hard even through the heavy coat.
“Your uncle lined up a good job for you out west,” she said, leaning close to shout over the steady rumble of the engine and the din of strangers’ voices. She smelled like the expensive formula my baby sister needed, powdery and sweet. “You work hard, and we can bring you back home in a few years.” She tucked my train ticket into my pocket.
I nodded. The thought of leaving home made my stomach curdle like old milk on a hot day, but I was almost twelve years old. I wanted to contribute. I was small for my age, and not strong, not like my older brothers and father. But my uncle had found me a job where small was what the bosses wanted. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy
Laurel hadn’t had time lately to listen to the stars sing. Sophomore classes had kicked her butt up one side of the holler and back down the other. She’d been okay missing the stars until the school’s combo football coach and part-time counselor had called her in right before Christmas break to talk about what she’d do after graduation. His tests claimed she should be an astronomer. Like Laurel’s mom had money for her to skip off to college or anything.
Starting the break like that put Laurel in a mood, so soon as it got dark, she bundled up and headed out back of the house. At the train tracks she laid down flat on the rough, sloped gravel, feet pointed at the ground, head pointed at the sky.
At least she could listen to the stars for free.
Their songs flickered like their light. Tonight, Sirius sang melody. Castor and Pollux added harmonies. Aldebaran’s deep bass rumbled underneath. And over it all, the Milky Way trilled a faint blue shimmer of high notes, hard to catch. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction, Space opera
My first night on Earth-Vega was also my first sunset show. The viewing was held on the Sunset Mezzanine, which jutted out from the third floor of the hotel. My human guide, Ruya, gently escorted me through the press of humans to the front railing so that I could see, since we Yelvani are no larger than human adolescents.
From the balcony, the hills seemed to tumble over each other down the gentle grade from the hotel to the edge of the forest, which then climbed gradually up toward the horizon until it terminated at the feet of the distant mountains. The breeze was bracing but not so cool that I had to turn up the temperature of my garment. The view was perfect. Everything the humans made was perfect. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy
On days when I came home crying, my grandmother was always there with her song.
It was a tune friendly and old as the roads that crossed Mazael: the sort you shared while you watched the land roll away on horseback, or sitting at a moonlit fireside among familiar faces. I would lean against my grandmother on our rickety porch and breathe in her scent as she sang to the street.
Magic lay in that song, the notes so delicate you could tell a story about each one. As the beginning strands of music twined together, I would be transported to a place that let me forget the ache in my chest, a city of an entirely different skin than our Lenniel. A place of worn streets and thatched roofs wrapped in the smell of woodsmoke and fresh ale. A sunset, a fire, the sky on fire and the streets ablaze with torchlight.
“This is our song, dear,” she would say as she smiled down at me. “Don’t listen to the other children. We will always have our home with us…” Her fingers would press against my chest just above my heart. Somehow she knew the exact place where her spell took root. “Here.”
Even after so many years, that is how I think of home. Sitting there on that porch with the wind stealing my tears and carrying away the sound of magic. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fantasy
On days when I came home crying, my grandmother was always there with her song.
It was a tune friendly and old as the roads that crossed Mazael: the sort you shared while you watched the land roll away on horseback, or sitting at a moonlit fireside among familiar faces. I would lean against my grandmother on our rickety porch and breathe in her scent as she sang to the street.
Magic lay in that song, the notes so delicate you could tell a story about each one. As the beginning strands of music twined together, I would be transported to a place that let me forget the ache in my chest, a city of an entirely different skin than our Lenniel. A place of worn streets and thatched roofs wrapped in the smell of woodsmoke and fresh ale. A sunset, a fire, the sky on fire and the streets ablaze with torchlight.
“This is our song, dear,” she would say as she smiled down at me. “Don’t listen to the other children. We will always have our home with us…” Her fingers would press against my chest just above my heart. Somehow she knew the exact place where her spell took root. “Here.”
Even after so many years, that is how I think of home. Sitting there on that porch with the wind stealing my tears and carrying away the sound of magic. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Fairy Tale, Fantasy, Horror
With so many episodes to choose from, how can we possibly decide on what to pick as our birthday encore story?
Marguerite’s favourite episode of all time is Kulturkampf by Anatoly Belilovsky, narrated by Hans Fenstermacher – we released this as an encore story, in episode 360.
Mine — at least this week — is episode 381, The Lie Misses You by John Wiswell, narrated by Athena Haq.
Jeremy, our long-suffering audio producer, would choose the marvellous Why I Spared the One Brave Soul Between Me and my Undead Army, by Summer Fletcher, narrated by Katherine Inskip – this was episode 355, and a staff pick for 2019.
However, the story we’ve chosen to highlight today is our founding editor Graeme Dunlop’s selection:
Genres: Modern Sci-Fi, Science Fiction
Asha—Ash to friends—wedges the maintenance door open wide enough to slip into the darkened interior of the abandoned ride. Inside smells like rust and stale water and plastic fused with metal.
“Sphexa,” he says. “Light.”
The small robot bobbing behind him clicks, casting a circle of illumination on the concrete floor. He made Sphexa in shop class at school, patching together an old Echo, a frame salvaged from a drone, a rolling toy robot, and a few other things, because if you’re going to be that stereotype of the Indian kid good at engineering, you might as well lean all the way in.
“Reminder,” Sphexa says as they make their way down the narrow walkway lining the tunnel. “Event upcoming in two hours: Pick Mei up for prom.”
“I’m working on it, Sphexa.”
Genres: Comedy, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy
September 1, 1870
Most respected Feldmarschall von Moltke,
I wish to thank you for giving me the opportunity to put my theories to the test in the taking of Sedan. They were, of course, entirely correct, and our clear tactical victory I am happy to be reporting.
Die Grosse Bertha worked to perfection; we were able to play Bruckner’s Zero Symphony at half steam while the technicians adjusted all their valves and levers. Steamwinds worked perfectly on the first try, and though of course strings needed to be tuned, of the steam tympani there was never any doubt. I have perhaps been harsh on occasion in my estimation of Herr Bruckner’s work, but for making the listeners run away screaming I should say his symphonies are without rival.
Genres: Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Superhero, Urban Fantasy
Cyrus sat on the couch and crunched on a bowl of frosted wheat. Normally he would have sat at the table, but the table was currently covered with papers, folders and charts. His mom was finalizing her budget with her new business partner, Herman. There wasn’t much room in the one bedroom condo, so Cyrus was bumped to the couch.
He was sick to death of business plans and marketing and how much will it cost, so he put in his ear buds and switched his mp3 player on. He hit next to get a random song.
Can’t trust me but it’s not about trust
I make no sense, I am the walrus
Cyrus sprayed milk all over the coffee table.
He had been looking directly at Herman when that line played. He always though Herman looked like a walrus, with his droopy mustache and big belly.
Genres: Horror, Wonder Tale
Stirred by a bone-chilling wind, the lone tree in the unsanctified section of the cemetery rattled its bare branches. Duffy had the eerie feeling that Witchman’s Oak sensed what was to happen today. He chewed on the hard skin left by a burst blister on his right thumb and studied the tree.
By order of the Edgewater town council and with the mayor’s approval, Duffy was to remove Witchman’s Oak before Christmas despite local lore proclaiming the tree haunted. Personally, he thought it was a terrible mistake to cut down the oak if for no other reason than the shade it provided in the summer. Rousted by another cold gust, the huge iron bell hanging from a rusted hook embedded in the tree’s trunk clanked its agreement.
Genres: Science Fiction
Hello everyone, sorry we’ve been away for a while. Make sure you listen to the story for that important announcement we mentioned.
Bill Holt rushed into the star ship’s meeting room thirty minutes late and set his banjo down on the metal conference table. “Sorry to keep y’all waiting, “ he panted to the half dozen people. “Earl didn’t show up today.”
Skaggs, the top official from Galactic Mining, took a long slow sip of coffee. “Who’s Earl?”
Bill adjusted a couple of strings. Banjos were temperamental and had to be tuned constantly especially in the constant heat and humidity of this alien world. “Earl Scruggs. Greatest banjo player of all time. Bluegrass legend. Flatt and Scruggs.”
Skaggs responded with a blank stare.