There are seasons for words. Each writer has their own—some sparse, some prolific—and I’ve learned to walk where the wind arrows through the trees. This year, I haven’t been working on longer projects (aside from my poetry collection, which is currently being queried). Instead, I’ve been drawn to drabbles and poetry, both in what I read and what I write. These brief forms have kept my creative life afloat through a year of searching for the woman I want to become.
For 2025, here’s my roundup of fiction and poetry publications:
Fiction
Deadrise BLACK HARE PRESS — Year Seven, December 2025 (dark fantasy, 100 words). About a ferryman who rows paying passengers into the deadrise, where clouds solidify into pale ships.
There are some kinds of trees used for shipbuilding and coffins alike.
Passenger of the Weyward CREPUSCULAR MAGAZINE — November 2025 (urban fantasy, 100 words). A story for anyone who has ever found the Weyward Stations, that place we go to make difficult choices.
The air was a bakery of old paper, coffee, oil, uncertainty, and creosote ties.
Song of Longing SHACKLEBOUND BOOKS — Short Fantasy Stories, July 2025 (dark fantasy, 100 words). A drabble about music heard from the bells tied to sky-reaching branches.
When the breeze exhaled, the metal sung out, off-key. They called it the Song of Longing.
A Demon Who Named Himself After a God SAROS SF — Issue 3, May 2025 (solarpunk, 100 words). Feed your heart to a demon in a digital-forest.
I met the demon in a digital-forest, where screens bled a pale imitation of moonlight.
Like Honey Fungus, I Crave More Than Sweets SAROS SF — Issue 3, May 2025 (solarpunk, 100 words). Listen to the trees’ music played through fungal threads.
I sit atop its scarred trunk, don a pair of mycelium bracelets, and let fungal threads grow into my skin and its bark.
Light-Hungry SAROS SF — Issue 3, May 2025 (solarpunk, 100 words). Find what waits beneath the moon of the forest-city.
The moon above is so pale, no longer a lantern, and it’s cracking as if it’s hatching, becoming something that can be eaten.
Song of Water ABYSS & APEX MAGAZINE — Issue 93, January 2025 (dark fantasy, 800 words). Face an enemy who is a dragon, but also a mother and a warrior.
Men killed monsters, always had. No doubt her beauty was a bit of spellwork meant to lure him into compliance. Maybe he wouldn’t mind claiming her for his own, but on his terms—never hers.
Poetry
Nestlings EAVESDROP MAGAZINE — Issue 5, Winter 2025 (19 lines). A poem that explores the definition of home.
we decided as a group that a home
was not a place, an address, or a feeling,
but something in-between
Missing You, No Matter Where I Am HEARTLINES SPEC — Issue 9, Winter 2025 (19 lines). It’s about how you can feel homesick and lost even if you’re somewhere magical.
how do birds know when to migrate?
you said you think the heavens tell them
in the root-whispers of elderly oaks
Prey-born THE PINK HYDRA — Issue 1, Spring 2025 (17 lines). The world takes from us as we pass through it.
this world won’t let you pass
without a taste of something real left
in its sharp teeth.
Where Snow-on-the-Mountain Grows THE PINK HYDRA — Issue 1, Spring 2025 (23 lines). This is about a real flower I came across on a walk one day.
In the winter, it didn’t snow there,
but snow-on-the-mountain grew in its stead.
I took a photo of its flower clusters while you waited,
blooms as pale as the ghost you would become.
When the Crow Sings PLOTT HOUND MAGAZINE — Issue 1, Spring 2025 (15 lines). Can you outrun your own death, winging close, even as it sings out to you?
This song is gold-leafed, glimmering above,
spelling the courtship of something else
branching underneath.
Just Outside of Chattanooga STAR*LINE — Issue 48.1, January 2025 (32 lines). About a place where daydreams marry nightmares.
Our blood gathers
inside a Nickajack church,
its brick walls too mortal
to ever hold in the grief
or other, unholy thoughts.
Thank you for reading!