I met Zane through the draft comments on my first submission to a publication. I imagined the other Dickens leaning in as he twisted his moustache behind a MacBook Air.
I was so proud of that story, yet utterly terrified to press “submit”. Hindsight, it was an amorphous blob of confusion. But for some reason, Zane — a stranger on the other side of the world — put on his kid gloves and showed me how to sculpt it into something palatable. A few weeks later, I was bombarding them with submissions!
Zane’s little act of acceptance jettisoned me into…
She tells me it’s her livelihood.
Every time I watch her spread her legs in front of a cold piece of glass, she doesn’t fool me.
I can see the look in her eye, not that one. The one behind the, “come closer” mask, the real one.
Each climax is a low point. For me and for her.
This isn’t a dance, it’s a transaction. But neither of us are getting what we want.
If this is livelihood, where is the life?
It’s a filter, a message, a show. Never break character they say. It’s a turn-off.
This is Riah.
Riah Raine Knapp. Formerly, Riah Raine Anders. Formerly formerly, Mariah Raine Anders.
She is my love. My bride. My favorite human. I’m sorry, but I prefer her over all others. I’m not sorry.
Why you ask?
Because she’s her.
She’s all the good things. Tattooed, pierced, dreaded, makeup-less, unabashedly colorful, curious, a reckless lover, a prolific creator, lover of all things small and cute, lover of Jesus, quirky, playful, an adventurer, she’s her. And there is no one like her.
Cover my body in sticky notes
Create in me a cool frost
Capture the rain inside my soul
Waiting for your entry
Fishing for function
Frustrated by communication
Separated by situational awareness
They call it the stomping grounds of the unknown
A restless place
A futile human race
Something you can’t erase no matter how hard you try
no matter how idealistic
Tumbling turning twisting
The rapture of restless ramping ramping
There’s life even here
Trust me, trust me, trust me
“It’s the connections between things that are important,” my uncle used to tell me.
I never met him in person, only virtually, I’ve never even had a body. In a world where bodies are no more, connections are the final frontier.
I re-build history.
It turns out human intuition is quite unique. Even the most advanced AI will create connections that aren’t there. It takes a human mind to reveal truth.
I’m just an ordinary brain, br-4fhxu2, floating somewhere. But I’m starting to think he might have been the most important human in history.
Unlike other brains, br-4fhxu2 traverses the…
The dust lingered above the faded green felt, as much a feature of the place as anything else. Disturbing its rest was a shirtless, sweaty creature, hunching over a corner of the table, eyeing a row of cracked spheres. Its skin nearly matching the color of the fabric.
The creature was still. Its thin, black, shoelace hair clung to its sticky face like tape. You could barely hear its wheezing as it lined up the cue for the shot.
The door swung. BAM. The sound rattled through the old building.
AH! The cue stabbed the felt and sent the spheres…