two perspectives on the moon, one hundred words each. my attempt is here, Jo's lovely words are below. “Is there life on Mars?”  “That’s… that’s not Mar—” “Well is there?” She stares upward at the sliver of grey, evening colors fading into each other in a tired gradient of sky. Her eyes close, tempted to … Continue reading below

an open book

“I’m tired of being tired,” said the child in the kitchen doorway, early morning hair wild around her face, heavy-set lines defining the space beneath her eyes. Her mother looked up from where she sat at the table in the dim light, an open book in her lap, gentle clouds of steam spilling from her … Continue reading an open book

from a distance

Millions of miles from home, a lonely space dragon yawns, setting the cold darkness alive with gentle streams of purple fire. It pauses to gaze in wonder at the weightless motion of the flames, tilting a head the size of Pluto before turning and darting deeper into the pockets of the universe. Folding translucent wings … Continue reading from a distance


The air is thick and slow, holding a trapped sunlight that slants against the earth as the boy runs a wandering hand along the length of the blue gate. His fingers come away streaked with something pale—pollen, roadside dust, yesterday’s rainwater. The taste of salt, bitter and strange, lingers in his mouth, and each small … Continue reading blue


Where did you come from, tiny astronaut? I stole you from a sibling and they never stole you back. Now you sit on a stack of books beside my laptop, just watching the world, motionless behind your dark little helmet. I realized tonight that if I set you on my keyboard, the desktop background makes … Continue reading astronaut


When I opened my laptop to write this, it was 5:55. My coffee doesn't taste quite like coffee, which means I probably made it wrong, but I don't care because my mind is finally sitting up and blinking and coming to life. The Lumineers are coming through a pair of borrowed earbuds, reminding me of … Continue reading 5:55

because pop tarts from a gas station taste better than pop tarts from a grocery store

Scene: The quietest corner of a messy room. Late afternoon, summer. A thoroughly disheveled child sits on the floor, frowning at the dim laptop screen. Scrolling through a half-finished list of questions, she realizes how unprepared she is, congratulates herself, and picks up the phone anyway. She's preparing to interview Weez Phillips—extremely cool pen pal … Continue reading because pop tarts from a gas station taste better than pop tarts from a grocery store


It’s all very simple, really, in the same way that seeing beyond the edge of the galaxy and identifying every creature in the ocean and comprehending the existence of a human soul is simple, which is to say that it’s nearly impossible except in the ways that matter. To begin, finish your snack, get up … Continue reading wonder

the playwright

You tell me you were nineteen when you realized that everything won't always be okay. Empty voices hum along to the hollow tune of the dripping sink, and everyone can taste the gravity that exists between what we meant and what we tried to say. It hurts to stand still, it hurts to move, and … Continue reading the playwright