• Weekly Writing – October 18 2025

    “I think it’s something we all have to confront sooner or later,” Eve said. “The question of whether we’ve wasted too much of our time. I’ve spent nearly two decades accommodating their wishes. Growing their crops, letting them decide how… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – October 11 2025

    Looking from the painting, sunlight reclining across a rumpled bed of foothills, to Eve on her couch felt like turning from one piece of art to another, two of a set. From sunlight to golden hair tangled with flowering vines,… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – October 4 2025

    Fior stood amidst the corpses and tried, briefly, almost recreationally, to be horrified. To feel that wound in the world, in her home, as if it were fresh. As if the scars charred into its walls would last a second… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – September 27 2025

    It only looked like a butterfly because of where it had chosen to hide itself, of course. Faint, fluttering, fragile thing, but no different in nature than any of the other pieces she’d collected, and some of them had been… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – September 20 2025

    No one ever asked him what he feared most. They feared too reasonably for that. But dreams didn’t have any reason to cower from him, and they crept up to ask him in his sleep, when all answers were honest.… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – September 13 2025

    “I hate it,” she said, could only say to her grandmother, who would think well of her anyways. “I hate being this way. Why should it be their business what I’m like? Why should they get to decide?” Only her… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – September 6 2025

    Tall and stately and untouchable as death disrobed, the metal figure walked that storm-washed field of battle. Rain coursed through the tree-root-branching insignia cut into its breastplate, leapt in white spray from the sharp joins of its hips, the only… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – August 30 2025

    Stumbling, screaming, smoke, a world turned to hell in the space of a smoke break. He was only still alive because he had been outside, one of the lucky few grinding sparks to ash under his shoes and thinking of… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – August 23 2025

    Save it for when you need a little happiness, she had said, pressing the parcel into his hands. When there doesn’t seem to be any left on the horizon. The horizon was nothing now but shards of moon-glow bobbing on… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – August 16 2025

    It would have been better if he’d just vanished without a trace. A parent can make up all sorts of hopeful stories then, about other shores, other ships, even about a son who hates them so much, he’d rather disappear… Continue reading