Tiny Knife Elephants


Unzipping a canvas tent flap is not quite the same thing as opening stiff hotel curtains, but it’ll do.

Hello, Jasper. I got your last letter just before Sarah and I left San Myshuno for three days in Granite Falls.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | 14 Comments

Caramel Centers


Hello, Anya.

Today I went out to the tracks. I waited for a while, but no door ever appeared. Sometimes a train would come clanking down the tracks. I did not try to go through the trains, though. I don’t think that would have ended well.

These doors that stalk you; what happens when you go through them? How do you know when to go through them and when not to? Do you have a choice?

I am sorry about the hollowing out. You may be alone where you are, but you are not alone in being hollowed. I hope that helps.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | 21 Comments

Black Hole


I opened the door. I am in the lobby. Taking out the trash. Waiting to see if everything is going to go wrong.

I hope that if it does, the vase with the fake orchids gets smashed first.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | 21 Comments

Inside the Walls


I am safe inside the walls, and the sun cannot get to me.

Hello, Anya. Earlier today the computer chair was in shadow for a time, and I read your letter. I had to read it quickly and then get away before the shadows were eaten by the teethlight. I should move the desk away from the window.

I am glad that your sun does not think that you taste good enough to eat.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | Tagged , , , , , | 9 Comments



Some days the sun is less hungry than others.

Hello again, Jasper. I read your reply to my letter last night.

The therapist’s office is in Magnolia Promenade. The sunlight here is different from the sunlight in San Myshuno. The birds here are very talkative. Your neurochemicals would enjoy it, I think.

You ask me to tell you a story of grace. I don’t know if I can do that.

I can tell you the story of a day when the sun isn’t so hungry.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | 7 Comments

Cardboard City


Sarah said I needed exercise.

She said that if I thought the sun was trying to eat me, then okay, I could go out at night if that would help, but that I needed exercise. She said endorphins would be good for me.

I don’t suppose I’ll be releasing endorphins any other way any time soon. She closes up around herself when I’m near her.

I was not expecting a reply to the pen pal form.

Hello, Jasper.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | 11 Comments

The Swallowing Sun


The sun is trying to eat me.

I go outside sometimes, and I walk in its light. It shines in my eyes. It gives me headaches.

This morning I am safely inside, protected from its rays by layers of glass and concrete. I sit down at the desk in our bedroom. The sunlight streams through the window. It can’t hurt me here, but I feel it on my face. Tasting my skin. It makes the computer screen hard to see.

But the sun still has not swallowed me.

Not yet.

Continue reading

Posted in Emo Pistols | Tagged , , | 10 Comments