Monthly Archives: April 2015

Horror podcasts, the best of dark audio fiction

Hey, everyone. If you’re like me, you enjoy a good horror story. It takes you back to a childhood campfire, right? Remember the bloody hook in the car door? The dead hitchhiker? All those tales used to send a shiver down your spine, but now you’re grown, and it’s hard to find the time to sit down and read a book to recapture that *scary story* feeling. Well, I’m here to help. I, too, have trouble finding time to read, and in those moments, it’s audio fiction to the rescue! Below I’ll list several places you can find audio fiction online. I’ve also posted some of my fave episodes.

I’ll start with Chilling Tales For Dark Nights. These guys put out TONS of free audio fiction and release it in ways that are easy to access, such as their Youtube channel here: https://www.youtube.com/user/chillingtaleswi

Here is a favorite of mine. Super dark:

Next up is the NoSleep Podcast. I’m not going to post my favorite episode of every podcast I list here, but there is an episode of NoSleep that sticks out in my mind. The idea behind the plot is so damn scary, it actually made me shudder. The story I’m referring to is titled “21 Day Quarantine”, and you can find it on season 4, episode 4 here: http://www.thenosleeppodcast.com/?p=1566

nosleep-podcast-logo

Third on the list… Wait… why did I put this one third? I LOVE THE WICKED LIBRARY. Nelson Pyles of www.TheWickedLibrary.com has produced some of the most entertaining horror performances I’ve heard, including three of my stories! 🙂

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If you want to pick from lots and lots of episodes, start with the most recent season (http://www.thewickedlibrary.com/Hello/podcast/podcast-season-5) and work your way back. Or to sample it, just click below. I uploaded one of my Wicked Library tales to Youtube. Check it out:

All of this should give you a good starting point, but I am STILL not done! You MUST check out The Drabblecast:

drabblecast

www.drabblecast.org

And also, last but DEFINITELY not least. I truly enjoy the Tales To Terrify podcast

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www.talestoterrify.com/category/podcast

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That covers what I’ve been listening to lately, but there are other podcasts and audio fiction websites out there, just waiting to be discovered by YOU. Feed the hungry child in you. You know you’re hungry for horror!

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Dark poetry by Lindsey Goddard

The great response we’ve received to horror poetry so far has got me itching to share one of my own. Do you mind if I steal the spotlight for a moment? The following poem has been published twice. In 2009, it appeared in the anthology Mausoleum Memoirs, and in 2013, it appeared in the October issue of Infernal Ink Magazine. It’s my favorite poem I’ve written. I hope you enjoy it. Well… as much as one can enjoy gloom and doom. 🙂

Within These Walls
By: Lindsey Goddard

A ghost who mourns; her earthly name
was tarnished by the word “insane”.
The curse of life: her mortal bane,
her rival… ’til she stopped the pain.

Her name is now synonymous
with how she chose the Reaper’s kiss,
and how she stopped her heart for this–
eternal ache, with no dismiss.

And now she floats within these walls,
follows me down every hall,
eyes me from the shower stall,
begging me to hear her call.

“Lobotomy,” she heard them say
on that strange and frightful day,
“is sure to wipe her tears away.”
Choked up, her father said “okay.”

An ear still pressed against the door,
she listened as the doctor swore
her grief and strife would be no-more.
His words, they chilled her to the core.

She ran until her legs gave out,
chest heaving with her final shout,
“It ends right here, there is no doubt!”
And she began to look about.

The gallows towered in the distance.
She ignored her limbs’ resistance.
Permitting not a moment’s hindrance,
she bid this world a curt good riddance.

Her tortured soul, it didn’t stay
near her gallows of dismay.
From its deathbed it did stray,
finding its way home that day.

And now she floats within these walls,
follows me down every hall,
eyes me from the shower stall,
begging me to hear her call.

Her name is now synonymous
with how she chose the Reaper’s kiss,
and how she stopped her heart for this–
eternal ache, with no dismiss.

Horror humor, to keep you in stitches

I hope you’re in the mood to laugh because I uploaded 40 new pics in the “Horror Humor” section. Here are a few of my favorites, but make sure to check them ALL out at: www.DirtyLittleHorror.com/horror-humor

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Dark poetry by Rick Powell

Greetings, and happy Friday. Today I offer you the dark poetry of Rick Powell. If you like what you read, grab a copy of his book!

rp-cover

She’s Waiting

She is waiting, crouched on the floor,
A trembling figure, covered in gore,
Clutched in her hand, a cold crimson knife,
She has relished this moment, waited her whole life,
Shivering and tense, her mouth a bloody grin,
Caring not of consequence, caring not of sin.

She remembers the times, his warm gentle touch,
Of candies and kisses, flowers and such.
Now, later every night, smelling of whores,
Once, whispers in her ear, now, yelling about chores,
The bed they used to lay in, was comfort from life’s storm,
The caress of naked flesh, their bodies were so warm.

Flesh entered flesh, she loved him so much,
Now, a bruised crushed breast, a hard dry thrust.
She came from the kitchen, to the bed where he lay,
With every plunge of the knife, the blood, a fine spray.

After she dials the phone,
She waits for them to arrive,
She never felt so free,
She never felt so alive.

Now, she is waiting, crouched on the floor,
A trembling figure, covered in gore,
Clutched in her hand, a cold crimson knife,
She has relished this moment, waited her whole life,
Shivering and tense, her mouth a bloody grin,
Caring not of consequence, caring not of sin.

Here, She Sits

Here she sits, near the edge,
Staring at the open sea,
The ocean blue all before her,
Nature’s beauty for all to see,
Of all that beauty, she sees not,
Of the nighttime sky and more,
All she sees is her destiny,
To lie at the ocean’s floor,
She’s done with all the living,
And with the life long fears,
She knows if she were to weep,
She would cry ebony tears,
Her life has been a waterfall,
A despairing cascade of sorrow,
She is done pondering about the past,
And dreading what is tomorrow,
She looks down at the waves,
As they crash on the vacant shore,
It will take a moment’s time,
Maybe a few minutes, nothing more,
She wishes for a distant voice,
To stop what will be done,
Maybe she will let this cold night pass,
And wait till the morning sun,
But for now, she will just sit,
Wondering if she will be missed,
With her feet, dangling over the edge,
“Should I dive, into the abyss?

It Was A Night Unlike Any Other

It was a night unlike any other,
The night that they first met,
The lamplight reflecting off the cobblestones,
In a darkened alleyway, the sun long set.

He went walking alone this night,
His heart full of remorse,
For a love that had abandoned him,
Her life had found a new course.

A long way he had walked to this village,
Streets with no name, passed houses unknown,
Passed businesses in need of great repair,
Passed dark, dirty windows, where light is not shown.

The only sounds in that dark night,
Were of his footsteps on the damp cold stone,
Not another soul about did he peer,
Glad in his misery, to be left all alone.

He turned into an alleyway,
To go back the way he came,
When out of the midst of the darkness,
He heard a soft voice whisper his name.

He paused, frozen, to see who would appear,
Then his gaze fell upon a shadowy form,
A hooded figure, still as the stone,
No other sound, except of an oncoming storm.

The figure took a few steps, silent and slow,
The dark robe whispering, to arrive where he stood,
A pale, slender hand touched at his sleeve,
The other cold hand then pulled back the hood.

A flash of lightning revealed the face,
The face of a woman, so pale and fair,
Lips so red, like dew on a rose,
Framing her visage, the darkest of hair.

What captivated him the most, was the depth of her eyes,
The color, indescribable, it made his soul swoon,
They were the brightest, as the sun on the sea,
And also the darkest, as the eclipse of the moon.

He meant to ask how she knew of his name,
But all of his words, over his tongue they did tumble,
No sound at all, passed over her lips,
The only sound in the night, the storm’s steady rumble.

She seemed to sense the misery in his heart,
When slowly she took him into her embrace,
He felt her cold breath upon his neck,
The feel of her locks upon his pale face.

He felt his misery leave his tired form,
Like dried leaves in the October breeze,
Though the pain was nothing like he could describe,
The hurt could not stifle how she set his soul at ease.

He felt his blood mingle with hers as she drank,
With every pump of his heart, his agony did drain,
Though the lightning did flash, the bolt he did not see,
Though his body did drench, he felt not the rain.

Now he walks these streets at night, no thoughts of past love,
Not thinking of woe, not of despair, agony or strife,
His home is with the darkness, he is at rest with the shadows,
All gone is the pain of his past, he has found a new life.

***

If you enjoyed these poems, please visit Rick Powell on Amazon and show your support by buying/ reviewing his work: www.amazon.com/author/rickpowell

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