short stories

Hopscotch


You’re far from the homestar, on the run from the big guns. You think of the places burned behind you: forked glassy structures with their petal-sails spread toward the more assertive of twin stars, the girl-woman with the peony eyes you left after a single bowered night, the weapons (guns, guns, guns) with your name inscribed on them in sixteen languages. Your faces.

Sf slipstream. Maybe. An interstellar quest for home, a battle, star-crossed lesbian lovers. Published in the anthology Twenty Epics. Thanks to my sister, Mrissa, Rilina, J.H., Margaret Ronald, Charles M., and Greg London.