Wrong Station Ad-free

Some scraps to tide you over amidst this horrible, truly horrible Summer famine.

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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

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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.

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“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

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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

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“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

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The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w.

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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

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‘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.

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"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

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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

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The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w.

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