PodCastle 544: Waters of Versailles — Part 3

PodCastle 543: Waters of Versailles — Part 2

PodCastle 542: Waters of Versailles — Part 1

PodCastle 541: Andromache and the Dragon

PodCastle 540: Flash Fiction Extravaganza! The Three Phases of Equinox

PodCastle 539: Godfall

It has come to our attention, through multiple channels, that the current incarnation of Artemis Rising 5 has caused harm to members of our community. Thanks to Bogi Takács’s eloquent explanation of how to bring more voices to the table, we are examining the best way to repair the trust we’ve broken. We appreciate the […]

PodCastle 538: Itself at the Heart of Things

PodCastle 537: To the Moon

PodCastle 536: The Threadbare Magician — Part 2

PodCastle 535: The Threadbare Magician — Part 1

“Hello,” answered some whiteman. “Good morning! Could I speak with—?” He mispronounced her last name and didn’t abbreviate her first, as nobody who knew her would do. “Young lady,” he said. “Can you please tell me whether Miss Jean-Louis is there or…

An old man sat behind the dilapidated counter of the country store humming Negro spirituals as Grace walked in, sweaty from standing in the sun. Her new black dress clung to her like a frightened child and she plucked at its neckline with irritation…

PodCastle 532 Vetala - PodCastle via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2uH6Alh

PodCastle 430 Thundergod in Therapy - PodCastle via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2bfiuqd

We roll into town on a bright sunny morning, steering the Caddy around the half-dozen streets that make up “downtown.” Three of us in the back dozing and the other two up front with our arms hanging out the windows, letting our fingers ride on the f…

Properties of Obligate Pearls By L. S. Johnson You have to know what to look for. Younger, definitely — stones from the elderly are heavy and black, decades of layers dulling the luster. No one wants the weight of a grandmother’s worries around thei…

Scar Clan by Carrow Narby Sage doesn’t ask me to go with her when the call comes in. She doesn’t say anything at all except, “It’s Thunderhead again.” She ducks into coveralls, tosses some shovels into the bucket truck, and speeds away. We call it the “bucket” because of how we use it. It’s not …

We Head for the Horizon and Return with Bloodshot Eyes by Eleanna Castroianni August 14th, 1949 Near Kançikon, Pindhos The heart had already stopped beating — small animal in glistening glory, trapped between rosy lungs. Burgundy liver and sickly gall I passed; bones and marrow hold more secrets. Intoxicated, I shoved my hands into the soldier’s …

My Heart the Bullet in the Chamber by Stephanie Charette They said I wouldn’t feel anything from the waist down but that was a lie from the first contraction. Yet when the good doctor took away the baby — healthy, crying — and offered that blood-christened Spencer Repeater in her place, I cradled its stock …

Propagating Peonies By Suzan Palumbo This time, you were a burgeoning peony at the edge of a small cottage garden, stems ladened with clusters of dark fuchsia petals. Your scent perfumed the afternoon air, enveloping me as I walked my solitary way home. I did not want to wait for you. I crept back towards …

Maiden, Mother, Crone By Ann Leckie and Rachel Swirsky The mule nipped at Marjan’s hand as she burdened it with her packs. She pushed its nose away, careful not to hurt it. She needed the mule to be well. Her life — and her unborn child’s — depended on it. She led the mule outside the stable …

A Whisper in the Weld By Alix E. Harrow 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 …

Blackbird Pastry by Megan Branning Sing a song of sixpence A pocket full of rye. Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing. Wasn’t that a dainty dish To set before the king? A dainty dish? Oh, I suppose, but did you never wonder how …

Shadow Man, Sack Man, Half Dark, Half Light By Malon Edwards You keep running, even though you know you can’t escape the fifty-foot-tall Pogo. But you were built for this. You are taller than all of the girls and most of the boys in your Covey Four class. Your legs are longer. Your steam-clock heart is …

Zilal and the Many-Folded Puzzle Ship By Charlotte Ashley When Zilal Saleebaan Kamal was six years old, she built her first ship in a bottle. It was a fully-articulated craft of sandalwood and brass with eighteen oars that rowed in unison when the bottle was tipped to and fro. Her father presented it to the …

In Spring, the Dawn. In Summer, the Night. By Aidan Doyle It always seems to me that people who hate me must be suffering from some strange form of lunacy. – Sei Shōnagon, The Pillow Book, Circa 1000 C.E. On the third day of the third month, the good people of court traveled by ox-drawn …

All of the Cuddles With None of the Pain By J. J. Roth What is a Reborn? A Reborn is an artist-enhanced baby doll that looks and feels lifelike. Artists create Reborns as one-of-a-kind collectibles, often from ordinary play dolls transformed into art suitable for hands-off display—or hands-on cuddling. While reasonably durable, Reborns are not …

The Chaos Village – Part 2 By M.K. Hutchins Sarsa was cooking some kind of coarse flatbread — it appeared to be made of wild roots and ground wild seeds — on a griddle slanted up toward the storage pit. Her hut was mostly empty otherwise, packed up into neat baskets still sitting outside the …

The Chaos Village — Part 1 By M.K. Hutchins The ground under Rob’s feet shifted from sand to jagged shale and back again. The mountains folded into valleys, then spiked into cliffs. The green clouds turned into triangles and tried to stab him in the back, but crumpled and fell off. Rob turned another page …