Tag Archives: Weekend Writing Warriors

If you asked me what I could have, ambitions I’d fulfill if I could–well, get T-7 off our back. That would be a nice start. Just give us a fighting chance, all right? Do you seriously have to be stirring … Continue reading →

We fear annihilation, of course, in spite of the plain fact that I-Elsewhere, We-Elsewhere will continue, even if this instance dies. We’ll just not rejoin Ourselves, and whatever we learn will be lost. So — beyond that, We fear that … Continue reading →

Desire is the ancient root of suffering, in its double face of attraction and revulsion. What we’d prefer, what we reject — doesn’t matter, in the face of What Is. Make effort, let go of the outcome; know that the … Continue reading →

Talk to it like it’s a horse, Phila says, and don’t insult the ghost in the machine. There are metal-spirits and wood-spirits; water and fire and air all have their souls too, ancient beyond reckoning, and a good mechanic knows … Continue reading →

Temn yr Astok claims to speak for my great-clan; he practices assassination and proscription, supposedly in the manner of the respected ancestors. None will gainsay him, as none were alive at that time. The precedents he cites are before my … Continue reading →

The Shipwright never had a child, so far as I know, but when I was twelve and lonely–for I’d been close to my mother, physically close (her conjoined offspring, some of the traveling-circle joked)–she spoke to me. I didn’t know … Continue reading →

Our cuisine has enough spicing so it doesn’t taste like the very same thing every day, though we all know that the bases number only a few, our old agricultural staples plus some new plants that have entered our diet … Continue reading →

The restless one has returned. Taryn laughs with her cousin’s former apprentices, swings her kit-bag to one shoulder, greets one and all as she walks down the Heart-Ring corridor with the swagger-and-sway, the bouncing steps, of someone who’s used to … Continue reading →

“So on Karis, I’d be Jehen Outlander,” Jehen said. “Oh no, you’d be Jehen whatever-your-epithet-is. Sarronny’s different.” “Why?” Yasmin asked. Mavra smiled, as if she’d been waiting for that question. “You know about the Revolt, and the Treaty–that’s why. We’re … Continue reading →

Downbelow, the Inhabitants make music in the infrared, and I bathe my own inhabitants (those lower-case, the Humans) in subtle movements of warmth. I wear my history, in the constant circulation of signals, in the minute dents in the hull; … Continue reading →