a year in stories::forty two

Another story, the fourth of the day, and also the shortest one. Maybe I’ll share the other ones later if they get rejected. That’s right! I submitted a few stories today, something I basically never do.

But, yeah, it’s Monday. I’m tired.

Ten more short stories after this and I’ll be done for the year with this strange writing experiment I began over ten months ago.

Rift

Snow falling, the river yet flows. I want to feel the taste of dirt in my mouth again. I walked between the snowflakes and filled my lungs with water just to see the bottom of the ocean. At the bottom of the ocean I find a new ocean that opened up and as I drank in that new ocean I made a desert. Belching the new ocean gone into the sky I watched the whale fly into the vast empty sky.

The desert now spread everywhere, I find the bones of humans and the bones of birds. When I look up I see nothing but when I look down I see their shadows. The shadows of humans with wings and they circle me. Only shadows. There are only shadows here.

Walking through the desert I find that the world here is made of glass. It’s made of glass and now that their ocean is lost to sky there’s only heat here. My feet scald against the glass of their world and the shadows hunt me, circling closer and closer.

There’s nothing here, only glass and hot and shadows. This world cracks open and I peer inside. Through the rift in worlds I see my homeworld, the sky above it. Then the shrieking howl of shadows. I feel their claws, their teeth, but I see nothing, and I see no damage done to my body.

When I close my eyes I see their horrible faces eating me alive, their bloody claws digging into my flesh, and I see my entire life ending in this world not mine.

I return to the rift and see my homeworld again but no way to get back there. I try to climb down but the space home is too small. I chew on the glass world and swallow it down but no matter how much I eat I’m still stuck in this foreign world.

Stuck, I wander the glass and sometimes I see the ocean I threw into sky swirling round like a hurricane.

It never rains here.

Through the rift I see my husband remarry, my child grow old calling another woman mother. I no longer wander, but live at the edge of the rift, watching the lie I made decay. The shadows continue to eat me but my body remains and they eat and they eat and I live forever in this all wrong world.

I miss the snow. I miss the rivers. I miss the taste of ocean and dirt in my mouth.

bounceback

Made a lot of contacts at the Twin Cities Book Festival, but, more than that, it was just a great time.  But, yeah, hopefully even a job’s going to come out of that. Met some organisations to make this freelancing thing really viable, learnt how to teach creative writing right here in Minneapolis, and how to be an adult education teacher right down the street.

One of the best parts of the Festival was Ytasha L Womack’s talk on afrofuturism. ‘Race is a technology.’ Man, hearing that, it was like my brain melted. So very interesting and an awesome way to contextualise that.

Completed a freelance job last night by writing this site for Warmachine: Tactics and also helped out on the Rimworld wikia site, which looks like an amazing game, one I may even buy. Got a few other things in the works, but if I could just focus on writing wikis I could make a living that ain’t so bad.

Anyrate, what else? Found some publishers who may be interested in some work, even one who may be interested in the Call to Artists stuff. I’m very excited today, and I had the great pleasure of reading For All These Wretched, Beautiful & Insignificant Things So Uselessly & Carelessly Destroyed by Hosho McCreesh this morning. What a perfect book to start the day. Probably perfect for any time of day, but it felt so good to have that in me right after I woke up.

Probably other things. Going to keep hustling for work, start looking for a local part time job, and get involved in all sorts of other thing. And, of course, write.