Stories

Nothing Awaits Beyond

When the generation ship Seeker arrived at the galaxy’s edge, it found a marble stela half-buried in the void’s velvety fabric. The ship’s crystal-mind anchored itself there while it began to wake the carbon-minds who formed its crew: the technicians and choice-makers and void-watchers and reconcilers who did all the things which it could not, and who were set to be awakened anyway to celebrate the start of the ship’s true voyage—to look out upon the radiation-scoured emptiness which divided them from the Sculptor’s luminous beacon, twelve million light years away and nearly as ancient.

Demons on My Mind

originally posted to Twitter on September 8, 2021.

The liquid roils within its flask, fighting against the thick rubber stopper. Pink and purple and green glimmer on its surface, fleeting highlights against its deep reflective black.

It’s trying so hard to get out—but it doesn’t stand a chance. Spell-etched glass and a binding circle burned into your countertop make sure of that—even if it broke the stopper, it would be trapped.

To Kill the Sunset

Beatrice’s Eyes

Originally posted to Twitter on August 17, 2022   .

Beatrice sniffs the air uneasily, unsure of herself in a way that she once vowed she would never be. Something has changed, something has shifted within her home’s generous confines, and she hasn’t the slightest idea what. An absence in the air; a lack of smell and noise.

“Cinnamon,” she calls, “I need your eyes.”

The doll doesn’t answer her. Its warm, welcoming scent doesn’t swell in the air around her as it pads towards her waiting hands.

Fangs Over Breakfast

Originally posted to Twitter on March 1st, 2022   .

She wanders into the kitchen midway through your preparations, drawn by the warm scents of cooking meet and browning bread and your heartbeat’s happy rhythm. You tug the blackout curtain closed as she does, walling out sunset’s last beams before they can touch her grey skin.

“Hey!” you cheerfully greet her sleep-mussed hair and hollow eyes, “do you want some coffee? It’ll be ready in a minute.”

The Stained Doll in the Window

Originally posted to Twitter on February 22, 2022   .

Each day you walk past the dollmaker’s store, past those wide glass windows full of carefully constructed cages. They almost look like they’re not cages at all, just dollhouses, but you know better: you’ve spent enough time watching to notice the bars.

The dolls gambol and dance, climb their furniture and nestle in little display cases almost like they weren’t alive at all; sometimes you even pass by as they’re having a tea party, a matched set drinking in unison.

And they all look just the same

Originally posted April 8, 2022   on my Patreon.

Content warnings: corporate capitalism’s cruelty, being mean to dolls, and pet stores.

“I heard that there’s a new dollmaker moving into town.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re setting up at the old mushroom farm. Everyone in the market was buzzing about it.”

“Who?”

“One of the big corporate ones, I think—”

Your witch barely reacts, but with her hands inside your open chest the barest reaction is all it takes. A tiny shudder, just enough to turn the tuning probe off course; it hits a taut string and your entire body shakes. It’s like licking a power outlet, like holding your hand to a hot stove—