Astrea had not realized that death would be this painful, with sharp pricks against her consciousness. She remained still, hoping the process of returning to the stars would pass quickly. She felt full, like her corporeal form would burst into particles.
I tried to tell myself that I didn't need the degree to be satisfied, but now that I'm almost there, I know that was a pretty lie I was telling myself.
In case you can't tell by now, I'm being fairly liberal with my definitions of prompt words. But it's my blog and I'll do what I want!
Dana emerged from the reedy woods, shoes soaked, jeans muddy, and all that remained of James on her hands. Her heart still beat, and the air chilled her skin, but it felt like she'd never noticed them before. She would have thought she'd feel something. Anything. After what she'd seen, after what she did, all she felt was calm indifference. Because it didn't matter. James. Nika. All the people who never paid her any mind before. Why would she care? She wasn't one of them.
You might ask—is contemporary rural fantasy otherwise pretty much like urban fantasy? Sometimes. To me, though, rural, whether non-metro small town or countryside implies both distance and intimacy. People aren’t geographically close and neither are most resources. There’s no quick trip to the grocery or hardware store, the all-volunteer firefighters are miles away and the... Continue Reading →
This story made the rounds until I decided I would publish it here. It's a fun story that I enjoyed writing after discovering a toad taking refuge in the cat shelter I'd put in our backyard. I named him Trevor, but for fairly obvious reasons, I changed it in the story. I hope you enjoy it!
He floated next to the gyro in the calm silence of space. This was as close to “outside” as he ever got — ever would get if he had any say in it. He was station born, not quite so rare these days as it used to be, at least outside of the founding Company families, but still something to be wondered at. Station wasn’t the kindest place to children, unless you had very supportive parents. Manny was lucky that way.
In the beginning, there was dark. He couldn’t quite remember why it should be light, but he had vague memories of laughter and singing and fluffy whiteness that was completely opposite to the dark he was seeing now. When the light clicked on he winced and pulled back, as though he could escape the brightness. It was harsh, and it hurt at first, making him more blind than the darkness had. Slowly, his eyes adjusted.