“The Bodice, The Hem, The Woman, Death” in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, October 27, 2018

A few days before the end of our world, my mother took me to her favorite tailor to be fit
for a dress I would never wear.

“Dollhouse” in Escape Pod, August 2018

By the time I stumble off the red-eye from Los Angeles, my butt is numb. Five years ago, I would have been working up to murder.

Now, I feel fucking glorious.

“Even To The Teeth,” in Robot Dinosaurs, July 2018

The way to save yourself, o captain, is simple.

You must leave everything—your star-splayed chair on the bridge, your full belly, the soft, silk robes in the first-class chamber where you sleep—and come down to where we are dying.

An Equal Share of the Bone” in Escape Pod, November 2017

To kill a theriida, you need gunboats and suits, laser cutters and open-mawed cargo bays, brawn and a stout heart, and God on your side.

We, of course, had none of that.


“The Blanched Bones, The Tyrant Wind” in Fireside Quarterly, January 1, 2019

The city lives because we die: we, the shivering, bloody few, the girls who climb the diamond stair in the winter to serve ourselves to the dragon.

“The Dead, In Their Uncontrollable Power” in Uncanny Magazine, 2019

The funeral is nearly over when the dead captain
explodes. Roses turn to shrapnel. The cathedral is lost in fire. I am drenched in blood. Bone buries itself in the wall next to my head, my arm, my howling, open mouth. I am standing at the back of the room where a sin-eater’s child belongs, and that is why I live when everyone else dies.