• Hanging in the Air

    Something a little different this week. I am five days from moving house, and my thoughts are as cluttered with that as most of my spaces are with cardboard boxes. It feels as if I’ve thrown my entire life into… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – May 18 2024

    The train had been humming through the night for longer than it felt as if the night should have lasted. Their watch had stopped along with the brass-rimmed clock above the door to the next carriage, at a precise, unremarkable… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – May 11 2024

    Innocent and guilty, alibis and truths, were all different expressions of electricity. Reading them directly removed any need to translate truth from a suspect’s imprecise, self-serving verbal testimony. It, the it that lived equally in the specialized helmet worn during… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – May 4 2024

    Her hands couldn’t shake as she set his plate on the table. She had always taken the same pride he took in her precision, the smoothness of her joints and balance of her servos, but watching that china platter of… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – April 27 2024

    They had started writing her myth before she’d even been born, so there really wasn’t anything she could do. In accordance with its opening paragraphs, her mother had started teaching her how to weave as soon as she had enough… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – April 20 2024

    Building a city on a sleeping god means being ready, always, for the end. But that’s not remarkable, really. If this god ever peels its body up from under the crust of centuries, it’ll be the end for everyone. The… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – April 13 2024

    No one else would ever know that he had screamed. It was no comfort. The pain came from every side as he screamed, the jaws came, and that was no comfort, but it meant there was no time for him… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – April 6 2024

    They came in silent twos and threes, drawn by the smell of blood and runework. Yet he could sense them, even with his eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of being watched, assessed by a slowly closing circle. The warm weight… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – March 30 2024

    He started the preparations three hours before sunset, but still barely finished before dark stretched through the forest. He hadn’t accounted for the shaking in his hands. Hadn’t admitted, before the damp breeze laughing through the undergrowth and the last… Continue reading

  • Weekly Writing – March 23 2024

    The best thing he could have done for anyone was sleep. Gather his strength for when the alarm bell would ring in the morning. But knowing it was coming, knowing all the strength they could gather that night might be… Continue reading