• Weekly Writing – August 9 2025

    The first time Mother ever screamed at me was just this morning, when I reached for the door. I wasn’t going to go outside – I just wanted to look at the snow that’s been whispering for so long behind… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – August 2 2025

    “Can’t I at least talk to him?” she asked. “Just to let him know I’m here?” He was right there, after all. Just a window away, a speaker in the wall away, after years of being so far gone that… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – July 26 2025

    What does it mean to be a goddess? Or to become one? She smiles at me when I bring her tea. Thanks me and drinks it in slow, savouring sips, in time with the rain falling outside, the way anyone… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – July 19 2025

    On the fifty-sixth day after she had started waking up to the same day, the same blithe, sunny Saturday morning every time, she stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at where her father’s still, broken body had… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – July 12 2025

    Numb hands grasping a hilt he could feel like his own skin. Numb arms, no sense of the strain he could see taut in the muscles, as they lifted the heft of him. How he could see, that dizzy, encompassing… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – July 5 2025

    Every day since he’d been seven and had first decided he would have to sail someday, he had stood at the edge of the salt sea and stared out at where white met the shimmering blue of the horizon. And… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – June 28 2025

    A flower for every soul. Some housed in glorious gardens, but she kept hers close always, in a little pot clutched against her chest. Wilted sometimes by wind or heat, but never killed, and she had no place safer to… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – June 21 2025

    Five days’ travel to the next homestead, they said. Five days, but ten nights, they joked, for how the few scant hours of daylight flicked past and the dark endured. Phantom rays, ripples of green and violet, poured through the… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – June 14 2025

    Sparks drift from our outer hull to die in the dark. It’s a damn miracle that we didn’t breach, but it might have been kinder if we had. We’re not going anywhere, which means our only options are to die… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – June 7 2025

    “Just get them out,” he pleaded again, rattling desperately at the cuffs that held him to the bed. “It’s just surgery, right? Just rip them out, I don’t care, just get rid of them.” The tears welling from the corners… Continue reading