“By the time Annie craned her neck around to look over her shoulder, down at the ground below, she was easily three stories high.”
The more Annie thought about knocking on that door, the more she pictured the total chaos that would ensue if one of the alien creature’s she’d met on her journeys had shown up on her own doorstep. Her parents would have freaked. They didn’t like a harmless little garter snake; if they met an actual alien from another planet, they’d call the police or beat it away with a rake. Something horrible. Continue reading “Commander Annie – Part 3”
“You want to come with me?” Annie asked. The tiny flower-eye winked at her.
Annie grabbed her backpack from the far side of the pile of sleeping bags, slung it over one shoulder, and went out the back door, carefully avoiding the entertainment room where Doris and Ryan were doing their puzzle.
Outside the air was crisp; a breeze had come up and blown the earlier heat away. The stars looked bright. Beaming. Calling to her. Continue reading “Commander Annie – Part 2”
“Commander Annie was a daredevil, and she’d built her spaceship to handle rough landings.”
The Checkerboard Ultrarocket cruised through the upper atmosphere of Zorpa II. Commander Annie sat cross-legged in the cramped cockpit of her tiny, homemade spaceship and watched the enticing purple deserts and pale green oceans glide by. After her first aborted attempt, she’d never had the courage to land on Zorpa II alone. She’d been waiting all summer for Captain Callie to have time to join her, but Callie had been busy with a summer math class her mother was making her take. Continue reading “Commander Annie – Part 1”
Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023
“The universe didn’t blink in our staring match, it redefined how staring matches work by growing additional eyes.”
The universe is fundamentally composed of irony. We live in a story, and that story has a genre. It is a satire. Let me repeat the most important idea here: the fundamental building block of the universe, the smallest, indivisible component is irony. When you take an umbrella, and so it doesn’t rain — dramatic irony. The viewer, whoever or whatever exists outside the universe, or perhaps simply the personality of the universe itself gets to laugh at you. It knows; you didn’t. Dramatic irony. Continue reading “When the Universe Listens”
Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023
“The plesiosaur wasn’t showing up as an attackable creature. She flipped open her adventurer’s log and scanned through it, trying hurriedly to find the right quest text and read it.”
QuestCrusher20 zipped through the zone, zooming from one quest to the next without reading the text. She didn’t need to. Just follow the dots on the game map, and like breadcrumbs they led her from a cluster of satyrcorns to kill for their horns to an area strewn with mecha gears that the friendly robots of Robotica needed her to gather. Quest after quest, she could figure them out on the fly, and it only slowed her down to read the flavor text or listen to the NPCs tell their backstories. Continue reading “Speed Questing”
“How did you do this?” She was sure, deep under her fur, that the octopus was behind the snow. “And why?”
The thing that surprised Lora most about being an otter was that her face was round, and her nose was round. Everyone thinks of otters as long. With their sinuous spines, like weasels and ferrets, they’re big ol’ fuzzy noodles. But when Lora looked at her face — round. So round.
When Lora had been a cat, her face had been full of corners and edges; triangular ears, articulated muzzle; even the shape of her eyes had been filled with crescents and sharpness. Continue reading “Octopus Ex Machina”
Originally published in The Lorelei Signal, January 2023
“…am I truly a human dreaming of being a bizarre alien giraffe, shopping for groceries in an asteroid belt? Or am I the giraffe, dreaming of being a human?”
Franzi swung her long, giraffe-like neck from side to side, surveying the tightly filled shelves of the grocery aisles on this asteroid shop-mart. There were too many brands of jangleberries to pick from — she didn’t know which kind she’d like best, and somehow, the existence of so many brands made her feel like she shouldn’t have to settle for anything less than her absolute favorite type of jangleberry. Continue reading “Too Many Jangleberries”
Originally published in Beyond Wespirtech, November 2023
“If the stars had chosen her — somehow — to be their scribe, then it was not for her to turn the role down.”
It was so beautiful that the weight of it made her feel weak inside. She cried, and no one knew why. No one else could hear the music. But Brianna could hear it inside.
Brianna’s parents didn’t understand. They thought their child simply had an artistic sensitive soul, and perhaps, she was unusually susceptible to sunstroke. They tried to keep her inside on sunny days, especially in the middle of the summer. But Brianna craved the sun. It made her cry, but it also made her giggly and manic. Sunlight could make her happier than anything else — that voice whispering in her heart, rising and falling, raising expectations, holding out a moment longer than she thought she could stand, and then resolving. The music Brianna heard was the fabric of her life. Continue reading “The Girl Who Could Hear the Stars Sing”
Originally published in Beyond Wespirtech, November 2023
“She’d grown up on a normal planet with actual cities full of people, not some weird backwater world where literally every sentient creature had been created by one mad scientist, drunk with his own abilities, high on his own power.”
The ship shifting into orbit woke Tara up, but she kept her eyes closed, listening to her parents talk.
“It always scares me coming here,” Tara’s mother said. “Your dad makes such beautiful illusions for Tara. I’m afraid some day that she’ll choose not to come home.”
Tara was curled up on the ratty old couch on the back of their starhopper’s bridge. It was a loveseat and not meant to be slept on; she barely fit on it anymore. Her parents were sitting in the pilot and co-pilot seats, right in front of the viewscreen that must have shown the emerald and azure sphere of Grandpa Brent’s planet, Sylverra. Continue reading “Summers on Sylverra”
Originally published in Welcome to Wespirtech, October 2023
“Doesn’t it bother you that we live in a galaxy filled with all kinds of different aliens, but almost everyone here is human?”
The girl was science; chemistry personified, manifested in a physical form. This is not to say that the other scientists of Wespirtech were lining up in a snaky queue through the Daedalus Complex halls to see her, study her, consult with her like she was some sort of oracle. At least, Keida didn’t think so. Her new roommate, Rhiannon, was too quiet, and serious, to draw that kind of attention.
No, it meant Keida could see chemistry thoughts as they formed in Rhiannon’s brain. The evidence was perfectly clear on her face; a look that bespoke particles and molecules moving, joining, breaking apart and reforming in an abstract space she saw, approximately five inches above her own head. Keida was afraid to interrupt. A single word from her might break the spell. All those invisible molecules would dissipate and undo hours of silent work. Continue reading “Breathing the Air at Wespirtech”
