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Category: Mystery (Page 1 of 6)

Drabblecast Fan Pick: The Belonging Kind

October 5, 2018

The Drabblecast Fan Picks - The Belonging Kind As the Drabblecast Reborn Kickstarter campaign continues, we bring you another Fan Pick: The Belonging Kind.  Drabblecast fan Kyle Sellers introduces this eerie story about how hard fitting in can be sometimes…

It might have been in Club Justine, or Jimbo’s, or Sad Jack’s, or the Rafters; Coretti could never be sure where he’d first seen her. At any time, she might have been in any one of those bars. She swam through the submarine half-life of bottles and glassware and the slow swirl of cigarette smoke… she moved through her natural element, one bar after another.

Now, Coretti remembered their first meeting as if he saw it through the wrong end of a powerful telescope, small and clear and very far away.

Drabbleclassics 24 – Cinderlands (176)

August 29, 2015

Cover for Drabblecast 176, Cinderlands, by Chelsea RaganDexter crouched beneath the toxic fruit trees in his grassless back yard, turning over black earth with the spade he’d taken from the old man, and every shovelful revealed worse things:
clumps of cinders and the dust of ashes; rusting nails, practically dripping tetanus; wickedly-curved shards of brown glass; bullets of various sizes, crusted with dirt; and a foot or so down, fragments of black-stone statuary…

Drabblecast 342 – I’m Bill Kurtis

November 10, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast episode 342, I'm Bill Kurtis, by E. C. IbesNate had expected the first serial killer. In fact the first thing he’d said to Kelly once their Ford rolled to a stop on the shoulder was, “This is serial killer country. We’re finished.” She made scaredy-cat eyes and drew a finger across her throat. “Finished,” he enunciated. She’d heard his bake before, something to the effect that certain places settled and then maybe recultivated to feel remote–the Wisconsin Northwoods, for example, or parts of Appalachia or, in this case, Tornado Alley–were stuffed silly with the dumped spent corpses that were the nuggets of serial killers’ labor. The type needed space to operate. So each tree in the Northwoods doubled as a headstone, each stalk of corn out here a memorial, and to hike cross-country through such territory was to traipse condemned through the densest kind of cemetery.

 

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Drabbleclassics 6 – The Outsider (175)

August 31, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast episode 175, The Outsider, by Bo KaierHere it is again – the very first H.P. Lovecraft month special!  Listen in as we try to figure out what it’s all about at the end of the episode!

 

Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness. Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown hangings and maddening rows of antique books. Such a lot the gods gave to me – to me, the dazed, the disappointed; the barren, the broken…

Drabbleclassics 2 – Over the Walls of Eden (133)

June 22, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast episode 133, Over the Walls of Eden, by Bo KaierIf you listened to Clown Eggs and thought, “I need more stories like THAT,” you are in for a treat.  This week, we listen to Jay Lake’s “Over the Walls of Eden”-stick around at the end and hear a discussion of the story.

 

“Why do you remember the books?” he finally asks.
She smiles again. “O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere, Till pride and worse ambition threw me down…”

 

Drabblecast 314 – The Blue Celeb pt. 2

March 1, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast 314, The Blue Celeb part 2, by Matt Waisela“Get out of sight, Joe.” He hustled into the shop and locked himself in the bathroom. The first cruiser that pulled up had Frank Boone riding shotgun. Less than a minute later, the sidewalk was swarming with cops.

 

 

 

 

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Drabblecast 313 – The Blue Celeb pt. 1

February 24, 2014

drabblecast_313_matt_wasielaWhen me and Joe got home from Vietnam, we went into business together, cutting hair. Bought a little shop in the old neighborhood and been there ever since. Back then, wisecracking Harlem barbers weren’t a cliche yet — at least not south of 110th Street.

 

 

 

 

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