Fantasy. The Carriages Beneath the Sand At the hour when violet dusk erased the horizon, the stationmaster heard wheels grinding beneath the desert. The sound came from under the abandoned platform, where foxes had made their beds and wind had polished the rails to a dull...
Romance. The Market of True Prices On the morning the orchard road vanished, Mara Venn spread her oldest map across the bridge table. Rain silvered the ink. Beyond the parapet, the river carried the morning away as if it had been spilled from a blue pitcher. Mara had drawn...
Mythic Fiction. The Season in the Lantern At the top of the floating market, where the stalls hung from chains of sea glass and the wind smelled of salt, Veyra kept a shop with no sign. Inside, seasons turned inside glass domes: a summer folded into a silver beetle, a spring...
Mythic Fiction. The Clock That Kept a Forest At the top of the orbital greenhouse, where the glass walls showed cobalt shadow and the stars beyond it, Nera repaired seasons. Her clocks had no minute hands. Some held the slow swelling of sap beneath bark; others counted the...
Mythic Fiction. The Watchmaker of Seasons On the seventh night of the dry season, Mara brought a moth wing to the desert observatory and asked the stars to tell her where it had come from. The observatory stood on a low hill above the dunes, a white stone tower with a copper...
Speculative Fiction. The River Kept Its Designs Mara Venn surveyed emotions with a silver spoon. She knelt at the riverbank before dawn, dipped the spoon beneath the current, and watched its reflection gather what the water carried. Grief clouded the silver first. Then desire...
Mythic Fiction. The Clocks of the Dry Sky At the edge of the Salt Teeth, where the desert turned from sand to glass beneath the moon, an observatory stood on six brass legs. Its roof was a shallow bowl painted cobalt on the underside. Every night, the astronomers set beneath it...
Adventure. The Tide’s Borrowed Things Mara Venn made bells in the room above the old net loft, where the sea worried at three nails in the western wall. At low tide she could see the causeway from her window, its black stones shining like a row of wet seals. At high tide it...
After their mother dies during a flood, two former wives have six days to empty the family house. The water has exposed letters, debts and an old betrayal that neither woman managed to bury.
Paradise Bingo has survived bad roofs, smoking bans and thirty-four years of Ruth Bell calling the numbers. On its final night, Evelyn Cross returns in green sequins with a letter from Ruth’s dead husband.
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