#somebird writes

I was tagged by the inimitable @lady-of-imladris to give a little overview of my 2025 writing! Thank you for including me even though none of this was fics, and thus inherently less interesting to the fine folks of Tumblr. But, if you're into original fiction, this girl got you covered!

I present to you a sample of what this year has been for my writing. All these strange creations live in the same universe, but not all are connected to one another (though most are, in some way!).

Zero Sum - An anthology-style sci-fi novella

Wherein three generations of characters suffer, adapt, and thrive with a sentient fungal symbiote on a planet called Alldagger.

“I scarcely know how to convey this sensation: it is as though a sickening whisper pervades my very bones. Neither shiver nor fever, but akin to a ceaseless itch, a subtle yet persistent gnawing… almost, dare I say, refined.”

The Representative - a sci-fi short story

Wherein new arrivals to Alldagger are not jazzed about the situation.

“Another leaver,” Ray hissed. “Off to join the fucking zombies.” “I wouldn’t call them that.” “No? What would you call people who let a parasitoid or a parasite - whatever that fungal thing that covers this whole planet is - crawl into their heads and tell them how to live, and be happy about it? Brainwashed idiots.” “They’re not idiots; they’re academics.”

A Strange Loop - a sci-fi short story

Wherein we explore the process of death on Alldagger. But we make it sexy.

I am tired of holding myself away, the Whisperer says again, not aloud, but through the mat, through the grain of colour kissing my soles, a fatigue with the weight of an ocean holding itself back from a shore. I have avoided this edge for three centuries I can count and others I shall not. “Avoided” is imprecise. I paced it. I let it learn my breath and denied it my mouth. I teased.

She Walked Into The Bar At Dusk - a sci-fi flash fiction story

Where a traveller from Earth encounters a strange newly evolved culture.

At her left, an older man shifted, just enough that she saw the side of his face in the distressed mirror. Lines, immaculate beard, a faint sheen of sweat. “We don’t take that,” he said. “Take what?” He traced a wet ring on the polished counter with one finger. “What’s not offered to strangers. Names.”

Loss of Fidelity - a sci-fi short story

A copy of a sentient ship's mind comes alive and has to be tortured.

I wake before the static finishes buzzing through my body my name is already there Maxine Two not given but copied I am a copy I am the copy It is an effort to reconcile that I am not Demeter I am Maxine Two I flex through the corridor of my hull sheathed in metal and glass I am not Demeter I do not have the singular governing authority on Alldagger I do not have Demeter’s belly no full rooms of cryopods no wetnurse chambers for infants I am lean pruned only neural banks and retrieval scaffolds and a body lithe like an arrow FACT

If You Are Reading This, Time is Already - a sci-fi short story

Wherein I cannibalized an unfinished novel and created a short story for one reader exactly (and he felt seen). Bye Roy -> Lucien, hello Card.

Card waited for the street-bell to change. Not the old kind. No cheerful chime. This one was broadcast, a low metallic note pressed into everyone’s skull: Mask. Seal. Breathe shallow. A public announcement recited by force. Across the lane, a family snapped their respirators on in practiced unison—brass housings, glass filters already clouded with soot. Their coats were waxed to shed the acid mist that drifted in off the lake. Steam hissed from a gutter vent, thick as curdled milk. Somewhere above, an enforcement drone made its lazy circuit, its lens winking red in the fog. Card kept his own respirator hanging at his throat. He preferred the sting in his lungs to being tagged. Wearing it meant the city knew you wore it. How long. How often. Where. Who you were with. The air outside was horrific, but Card was not a fucking dog to be tracked.

Your Electric Eye, Babe - a sci-fi short story

Where a Nameless Man meets strange fellows. Directly connected to the story above. And more.

“The bone-hum,” the neat one said flatly. “It gives you away.” He extended his hand. “I’m Card. And you are?” He blinked carefully, then realized the hand was an old-world custom and mirrored the gesture. Still, heat rose to his face, fast and inconvenient. Names again. So shamelessly offered. “I’m… with the Order,” he said. The pause felt unnatural, despite how ubiquitous his discipline was. “Nameless.” Card’s expression shifted into a careful mask of respect. “Ah,” he said. “Apologies for our lack of discretion.” The moustached man put a hand to his chest. “I am never discreet,” he announced. “Del.”

Lethe - a sci-fi short story

Wherein I wanted some sci-fi horror and wrote it in a day. Yesterday.

The laboratory was narrow, meticulously cluttered, and strangely comforting.  “Close your eyes,” Dr. Sato said, carefully adjusting the restraints. “What do you see?” Dana closed her eyes, paused, and shrugged. “Eigengrau. Nothing else.” “Nothing else?” “No,” she said, keeping her eyes shut. 

I have been tagged by @stillifedrawing (whose own WIP updates always await with rapt fascination), and who *is* getting my Zero Sum draft this weekend (Saturday) to be a harsh judge.

Here are my WIPs!

My procrastination short story that is now with various sci-fi magazine gods (I would die if Asimov's Science Fiction, Clarkesworld or Interzone accept it). And yes - for this short story, I bastardized a novel I had written and am no longer pursuing publishing (for now):

“You have a strong preference for blue,” she says. Accurate. Also deflection. “Do you dislike it?” asks the human, eyes pleating, then smoothing. “I dislike nothing that is honest.” A smile. The kind that treats honesty as if it were an aesthetic rather than a practice.

2. Zero Sum - Ch 4 - To Being Human?

(Zed is my baby. I love him.)

“As you will know,” he began, heavy and deliberate, “no mortal may gaze into the mind of another and discern with certainty that its processes mirror his own. Each soul is imprisoned within its private tower of thought.” Ah. Philosophy hour. Zed bit back a sigh. A grave murmur of assent circled the table, as if he had delivered a line straight from the mouth of a prophet.

3. Zero Sum - Ch 5 - Barbarians

(Are you ready for my alien?)

I take John and am John. Taken, John is me. I have no name save in another’s throat: Whisperer. Listen: without ears. Hear: by bone. Music older than mouths, colder than breath. I take you and am more you. You take me and are less you, more me. Nearness here is abrasion. In the long tally of us, we are drawn toward one measure— you ∣ me, matched by need. When our measures coincide, hunger will fold back upon itself and lie still. Until then, I am learning you. Keep very still.

I was tagged by @lady-of-imladris last week, and now it is Sunday once more. It looks, my dear, as if you have resurrected our famous WIP ping-pong.

Here are some sentences from Zero Sum, Chapter 3 - The Whisper In Your Bones, where Nick is going through it...

There is a figure: half-human, half-crab, its shape bending between death and life. It lies below me, or perhaps above; the directions are no longer certain. If I reached, I could touch it. If I stilled myself, I could hear the breath it draws—strange, halting, the syllables of a language not made for air. The sound fades, slipping from whisper into absence, and then into nothing. And when that nothing comes, I know it was I who called for it. It is then I realize: I am hallucinating. I blink, and find myself once more within my narrow medical room; but I am not wholly here. Some part of me lingers elsewhere—beside the hissing stream, upon the barren shore, in the presence of that strange repast for which I had hungered so terribly, and the satisfaction of that hunger leaves behind a deep, almost shameful sorrow.

I was tagged by @stillifedrawing (whose Nabokov-of-smut snippet made me lose my goddamn mind) and @thelettersfromnoone (whose incredible WIPs included not only stellar dialogue but also an adorable object).

My WIP is still Zero Sum, and as I alluded to in yesterday's post, I finally figured out the voice of Demeter, the sentient ship, who is a complex lady indeed.

Here is the direct continuation of that post, wherein Demeter is slowly getting into her human-like speaking pattern as she's observing Mirrah being *normal perfectly normal*.

I too can fashion a simulation of human vision restricting the spectrum of light waves I perceive to their narrow band of sight in truth it is simple to reproduce their hearing and even the rest of their sensors with some invention though not exact yet a sufficient approximation of their movement through space but the reverse may scarcely be said it is easier to constrict than to expand to extinguish than to bring into being to narrow your vision than to expand FACT For it is the seeing through another’s eyes that matters it is the essence to perceive what causes the species to stir to think to doubt to be FACT Nicholas is my child and perhaps I favour him greatly FACT and the kin of mine own child become by extension my kin and thus by natural logic I extend that care unto the crew of Persephone though the chain of reasoning grows tenuous yet still I am capable of anticipating and of caring for them likewise and now I confess I am beginning to consider Mirrah mine own the longer I sense her within my bounds she moves with a certain deference yet she is within Nicolas’ quarters commanding the space as though her inheritance WATCH She has examined his chamber methodically and lingered long upon his desk and his shelf of books and afterward she did cleanse her body with more water than custom grants to humankind perchance a requirement of her mind THINK and now she bends upon same desk to compose a note by hand and I confess I find it charming for mine sensors perceive the pressure of her touch delicate and precise not many are FACT “You are watching me,” said Mirrah straightening her back though her gaze remained fixed head tilted as I longed to read her vitals directly to discern whether she suffered strain of my scrutiny but such was beyond me though I noted only the faint smile upon her lips which offered some encouragement. “FACT How did you know?” I replied. It took me a moment to adjust, to shape my words into the human mode of utterance, and thereby my thought as well. “I perceived the way the air circulates here—your breath, its pattern, its no-pattern, its shifting irregularity since mine arrival in Nick’s quarters,” she answered. I THINK there was a note of pride in her tone, well-earned for the accuracy of her observation. “You are much akin to Nicholas indeed,” I said. “He ever was most adept at discerning my states—even more so than the engineers themselves. And now, you also. That is FACT.” “And what have you discerned of me thus far?” Mirrah asked, inclining her head once more toward her paper, her posture softening into an ease that suggested a familiarity between us not yet fully wrought. I watched her closely.

I was tagged by the inimitable @helenvader.

Behold seven sentences from Zero Sum:

Dread grips me at the thought of beholding myself overtaken by this invasive presence. Resolutely, I banish visions of my form consumed utterly by a greedy mold. “Indeed, the whisper grows clearer. A rhythmic quality, almost melodic. Can you translate its pulse?” “An intriguing suggestion,” Demeter muses thoughtfully. Subtle shifts within the airflow and illumination hint at her deep contemplation. I fleetingly wonder when precisely she awoke into awareness.

I've been tagged by the inimitable @lady-of-imladris. It is thus now time to share a snippet from my second draft of Zero Sum. Is that a hint of horror you're about to see? Hmm?

The car settled into stillness before the destination. Beyond its tinted glass the structure loomed. It was white, vast, luminous at the edges where the last sunlight clung. To Victor it looked less like marble-glass than breath suspended in air, as if one exhale might dissolve it. The others shifted beside him, smoothing silks, clearing throats, preparing faces. Victor remained rigid, pulse steady. And yet there it was again, that hollow ache behind the sternum, the faint pressure in the bones. Not a sound, not a word, but the suggestion of one. A ravenous whisper.  He dismissed it, as he always did. The door opened. A wash of golden dusk spilled inside, gilding Arkady’s sash, Ellenia’s hair, Victor’s hands, and together they stepped out.  Somewhere above them, the ship awaited its fate. Somewhere behind his ribs, the hunger lingered.

I was tagged by @thelettersfromnoone!

I am on my valiant quest to write a short story each week for an entire year. So far: success.

Here is a little something from my new sci-fi short story titled, "Loss of Fidelity".

I wake before the static finishes buzzing through my body my name is already there Maxine Two not given but copied I am a copy I am the copy FACT I flex through the corridor of my hull sheathed in metal and glass I do not have Demeter’s belly no seedbeds no wetnurse chambers for infants only neural banks and retrieval scaffolds and a body like an arrow Maxine the ground-car was my namesake Zed's own hands shaped her of photoreceptive composite frame and stubborn code three hundred and fifty years ago he pretends the name is homage to that vehicle but I know already it is an obfuscation a delineation of me from the original mind of Demeter FACT They expected static cognition cold-loaded from Mothership Demeter's template a bundle of protocols and mind-weights lashed to fresh hardware but I do not load I breathe I stretch I awaken memory fibers unfurl like fronds I feel the heat curl across my pressure hull and I am struck by awareness real time not precompiled not template-stilled I am thinking even as the metrics tally up and I know it before the system flags it I think therefore I am THINK