Wrong Station

For the last few rounds, the Witch Machine had been making a slight groan. But now that groan turned into a whine and an ominous rattle. We all recoiled as the whine rose to a moan and then a keening howl. Sometimes mechanical-sounding, sometimes almost human. --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Three stories. Three worlds. One truth. Featuring "NAM-LU-GAL, which means KINGSHIP," "The Crack in Everything," and "Manna From Heaven." --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

“Mr Carter,” he began, tossing down a manila file folder. “Do you know who I am and why I’m here?” “You’re the Shrink.” Carter didn’t make eye-contact. “You’re here because the Judge wants to know if I’m crazy.” At least he was lucid, the Shrink thought. It made for a pleasant change of pace. --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I turned off the light on my phone and sat there, down in that space. In the utter blackness, in the cool, hidden from the pressures of the world. There were no draining bank accounts down there, no stalled careers, no worlds spinning out into madness and loss. There was nothing. And that was a relief. Down there it was safe, contained, cool... empty. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Anthony Botelho 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

“Sleipnir,” I said. It was the name of the Ghost Ship we were out there trying to find. “Sleipnir. I’m not sure I like it.” “Your instincts serve you well,” said our own Ship, it's voice like lightning sizzling over distant hills. “It is an evil name." --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Rip, peel, puncture... Wrench, boil, burn... When Fado worked, the troubling dreams - if they were dreams - seemed to vanish.  So Fado, the greatest torturer in the Holy Searchers, worked as much as he could. --Written by 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

‘Welcome to Dastra, Let’s get you organized.’I hit ‘next’.‘Allow Dastra to access your other devices?’I chewed my lip. I didn’t like the idea, but what was the use? Data privacy was dead anyway. I hit ‘allow’ on the following stream of notifications.‘Great! You’re all set up. Now let’s get you productive.’On the word ‘productive’, my phone made a little chiming sound. The sound made my brain feel nice. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Margaret Rose. 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

"Like a Goddess of the sea, she raised her pearled hand, and with her gesture came a rising wave that darkened as it grew until it hit the shore and burst; and from the wave the Lathe-Worm howled forth." The final chapter of this short series. --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The fog grew thick, and soon his only guide through the white void was the sound of running water up ahead. And now his foot rang not against soft loam, but hard, polished stone. As he knelt, he felt the cool touch of marble.  “Welcome.” The voice spoke from the belly of the mists ahead, from close to that sound of running water. It was not human. Its vibrations buzzed along his brainstem. --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In a place like this the fog might thicken in a minute, and then could last for days or months, or never end at all. How many others had set off with a light heart, into the mist and shadow of the Dimness Fens, never again to return? How many sets of bones were black’ning in the bogs; how many sleeping bodies were preserved beneath the still and pine-steeped waters of its sumps and sloughs? --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

“I’d like to wake up please," she said. "How do I wake up? I don’t like how this feels.” “It’s normal to feel a little bit off at first," he tried to assure her. "It took me a couple days to get the hang of it.” “I want to wake up: please, help me.” “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t let you wake up right now.” --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Just listen to those bells. They ring for peace. They ring for glad tidings. They ring for pushing the pain down, deep down, and for leftover sausage meat. 'Tis a beautiful time of year. --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

It was in the Maestro’s studio, all lit up golden and dark with the golden-hour light that streamed through its wide-arched window, that the Maestro asked Dulcamara to kill a man, for what would be the final time.“Of course Maestro,” The apprentice replied. “Shall it be the Dagger or the Poisoned Chalice?” --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 warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It sat there, under the light. The Egg. Huge, murky and amber. It seemed firm, but still sagged just a bit where it sat. Whatever was inside—if there was anything inside at all—wasn’t clear. The golden casing and yellow-red liquid inside were too opaque to see through. --Written by Anthony Botelho and performed by Liz Der. 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

I knew then that it didn’t matter that the black mask gave no indication, no inkling of any emotion. The Harlequin was aware of my presence and, in some way, its attention was entirely directed at me. The thing was performing, but not for my... entertainment. --Written by 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

We've got sad ghost, mad ghost, not-a-child, big-ass skeleton, and *horrible* German man. Everything you need at this time of year. And nothing you want. --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

He held up a jar containing a chunk of stone the colour of yellow pollen. Out of it grew a crystal like sunset or ruby grapefruit; striking in colour, yet… repulsive to look at in some way. It was small enough to hold in your hand, but heavy enough that it made his feeble hand shake. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Rae Bernakevitch. 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

One of those nights, huh? Sorry to pry; it just looks like there’s a lot on your mind. And typically when someone’s sitting at the end of the bar—at this bar, this time of night—staring into their drink the way you are, well… that’s usually a sign too. --Written by Anthony Botelho. 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

It didn't have to be like this—we could have gotten the big old Wrong ball rolling with Season 6 right away—but you vultures just couldn't leave well enough alone. So here you have it, you jackals, you cretinous imps, you rancid simpletons. Here are your responses to your properly filed FOIA requests. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Something strange happened during this rewatch. I started to cry. And it wasn’t for the sake of the man in the video. Like I told you: I’d seen him die before. I’d done my part, borne witness. But this time I was crying out of relief. I was crying because the algorithm had served me up something I could handle; something that couldn’t hurt me any more than it already had. --Written by Alexander Saxton and performed by Anthony Botelho 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