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Short stories

I just finished a new story and submitted it, making three that are out now (and four that have not yet been resubmitted after rejection).

It seemed like a good time to look through the stories in progress, and do a first-lines meme a la Elizabeth Bear. It turns out I have eleven stories that have words written (not just notes or outline), and here they are (some with final titles, some with working titles):

The Antonym of Rainbow: A can-can line of blue elephants gyrated through the wormhole void.

The Dirt of Denela: Loredana Ney’s troubles ended here, up against a red-toned crater wall, with the dirt of Denela under her fingernails and poison lining her throat.

Learning to be Terrestrial: I cupped the full mug of coffee in my hands, the memory of warmth enough to keep my fingers wrapped around a cold cup.

Tapestry: The angel arrived in the afternoon.

Kitchen, Arthur, Fragile: The kitchen glowed. Sunlight streaming through the windows blended with the shine of the small fire on the hearth and both bounced off the clean whitewashed walls until the whole room shone with directionless radiance.

All the Leaves on Mars: Whisper-thin sheets of stainless steel piled to the ceiling, compulsively stacked, impeccably organized.

Alpha Says Omega: Misha laid her hand over Tom’s, formed a smile so practiced it appeared spontaneous.

The Future is Drawn in Maps of the Past: The knock echoed through the office. Jim jumped, long and painful experience pulling his hand away from the paper taped to the drafting board.

Oyster: “I’m going to find a blue one!”

Gray: The sky was gray, as smooth as if it had been airbrushed, the same shade as the dishes she slid into the matching cupboard.

Carnival Glass: I tied a bandana over my hair, glad I was alone in the house so nobody could see it.

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