Wrong Station

“I guess I always wanted to be a farmer.” I expected laughter, but instead the silence plunged deeper. “No,” said the farmer. “You don’t. The vermin, the too-small harvest, the too-big loneliness, up before dawn, asleep after dark. The forces of nature and God bending you to their will. Breaking you. And of course, this part of the country is prone to The Early Frost.” --Written by Jacob Duarte Sp...

“Sorry, Hannah,” he said. “I forgot you liked horses so much, and didn’t want to hear about them getting lit on fire until their bones showed through. Just be careful, you know? And watch out down by the tracks, too. You know, after what happened to that chick over in Chase. After the accident.” --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstat...

They arrived at the crime scene, a gorgeous space: plasterwork ceilings illuminated by broad sash windows. A floor of unsurpassed versailles parquetry was disfigured only by the pool of dried blood. “I do wish the police would allow us to clean that up,” said the Duke. “It is distasteful, ouais,” said Belanger. “But distasteful things are useful in this line of work.” --Written by Alexander Saxton...

A pair of guards bowed low on the other side, and though their weapons were sheathed, he felt a spike of alarm, and nearly struck them with his sword, for both men were deformed, and hideous in his sight. But though their appearance repulsed him, they spoke elegant Spanish, and welcomed him most courteously. --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com...

The Badalisc is an Epiphany-time tradition, a creature that visits towns and gives a comedic speech where it talks about the town gossip and reveals people’s secrets. There’s singing, dancing, eating, and at the end of it the creature wanders back into the woods. At least, that’s what I was told it would be like. --Written by Anthony Botelho. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon...

“That… play,” I said. “What did it represent?” He frowned at me and tilted his head. I repeated the question, but it seemed he’d understood my words, but not their meaning. “Represent?” he said. “Nay. It represent nowt. Tis just only the Auld Tup.” --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit content...

At four in the morning, I awoke writhing in pain. It was a hunger like nothing I’d felt up to that point. Like a force of nature. A vacuum needing to be filled. I tried in vain to sleep, to turn my thoughts away from eating and onto anything else, the blue rose, my future plans, my investment portfolio, literally anything. But it was no use. --Written by Jacob Duarte Spiel and performed by Melissa...

“Your son must be initiated,” said the shaman, Shiao-Duun. “For his sake and yours. You are all too young to remember the hard times, the cold times. But Shiao-Duun is not too young. And I tell you, such times will come again. The tribe will need its sons. The initiation must come.” --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wron...

“We just sail through.” And so we did. No flash, no psychedelic effects, it was like walking through a door. On one side, we left behind the world’s largest ocean; on the other, we entered a body of water nearly twice the size. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Jacquie Martin. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains expli...

Fallen leaves swirl beneath the feet of devils, witches, and demons. Flame is put to ten hundred thousand wicks, making faces glow through the dark October night. You crush a sweet thing between your teeth as you wait. You do not know for what but you know it will be unusual. It must be time for more snips, and it must be time for Halloween. --Written by Alexander Saxton, Anthony Botelho, and Jaco...

Shavash Day came on a cold October morning. Stumbling to the window, I saw people already lining the grey streets, dressed in drab traditional attire, or the Red and Grey of the Caraghian flag. Something that struck me, even from the window, was that nobody looked happy. They all just stood, waiting without anticipation, listening to the music without clapping their hands. --Written by Alexander S...

“But that’s not fair,” she whispered. Her grandmother grinned at her, mouth very wide, long yellow-grey teeth clicking as they met. “Get used to it,” she said. “It’s an unfair world. You’re going to have to learn that if you want to run the Company someday." --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explic...

It was an hour past sunset, which in this land is earlier than you might think it, when there was a knock on our door. Not abnormal at that hour, but not common. In this land work is best done under what meagre sunlight there is, and the night is best left to its creatures. --Written by Anthony Botelho. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station...

Something Wrong is back. --Written by Alexander Saxton, Anthony Botelho, and Jacob Duarte Spiel Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

That’s not to say I ever stopped fearing fish, but by the time I stepped through the doors of the aquarium that fear had been buried under 16 straight years of education and exposure. I thought I had it beat. But you’re not here for the story of my life. You’re here for the story of the Darkfish. --Written by Jacob Duarte Spiel. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongs...

“And what do you ask in return?” She said. The Druj shook her head at the question, as though saddened by a small, suspicious mind. “My child,” she said. “Who made you so mistrustful? I ask almost nothing in return. A small inconvenience, and quickly mended.” --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Ashlie White Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The...

So staring at this painting every day, well, you can imagine the kinds of tricks my mind started playing on me. Or at least, that I thought it was playing on me. Subtle things at first. I’d let the colours blend, imagine the trees blowing in the wind and the water moving with the tide. It was only four months ago that the... strangeness began. --Written by Anthony Botelho. Support The Wrong Statio...

But the Hunter was not fazed; if anything, their tawny eyes seemed to catch light. They passed back and forth in front of the dead animal, examining it from many angles, clicking their tongue. “Do you know,” said the Hunter, turning to their followers. “I think the animal did this on purpose. To frighten us. I think this ‘Tiger’ may be the one we’ve been looking for.” --Written by Alexander Saxton...

It was the sort of place with the same number of people in it at 11am and 2am, and often the exact same ones. You could stick your head in the door at noon, and it would already be night inside. The people who drank there had been banished from the day. --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit co...

The solitude, on the other hand, was, what’s the word? Palpable. I wasn’t at all prepared for it. They tried to tell us, but it’s something you can’t really understand until you go through it. Knowing you’re 3 trillion klicks away from the closest human. Well, the closest human who isn’t asleep. --Written by Mary Gillis, and performed by Joey O'Dael and Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station...

I remember even now how our grandmother described the Draugr’s corpse-blue flesh, his long fingernails, and how he crept away at night to gorge on the blood of children in their cradles. But as I say, such tales are no longer encouraged. The Christians say we have eternal life, and dislike the suggestion there is something unnatural about wanting to live forever. --Written by Alexander Saxton. Sup...

The meat hissed as it slapped onto the grill, and the Pit Master pressed down with his chrome spatula, not hard enough to release the juices, but enough to sear the geometry of the cooking grate into the beef. --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific wa...

“It was big.” “How big?” “Big.” I saw it a few nights after that. I was sitting in the kitchen, and I heard what I thought was the cat, coming down the hall. It wasn’t the cat. But it wasn’t much smaller, either. --Written by Alexander Saxton. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific...

Tradition has it they come out of the mountains once a year at Golowan Night, in midsummer, to visit the Town. They walk the streets; see what’s changed, and then they take one thing back with them. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Jonathan Shaboo. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature theme...

From a central column, it branched upward; a disturbingly fleshy plant corralled into a rigid, diamond lattice. It had no leaves, which I thought strange; so few plants are ever out of season in a greenhouse. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Annelise Hawrylak. Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation. The Wrong Station contains explicit content and...