The high speed train pulled out of the station with the smooth acceleration that still amazed Joel, even after years of riding the Republic’s rail network. Through the window, Chicago’s skyline stood sharp against the early January sky, the kind of crisp clarity that only came with single digit temperatures and clean winter air.

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The thing about Christmas trees is that they’re supposed to bring joy, which is why it’s deeply unfair that they also bring a very specific kind of anxiety that makes your right eye twitch while you smile through gritted teeth and tell your children, “Yes, sweetie, that’s a wonderful place for the ornament,” while simultaneously calculating how long you…

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Alastor’s fingers found the switch on the electric menorah, and the sixth light flickered to life, joining the shamash and the five previous nights already glowing on his windowsill.

Outside, the December darkness had settled over the small town of Makochi, which had once been two towns, Malta and McConnelsville, with a population of just over six thous…

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The line stretched down Cermak like a patient serpent, fifty people at least, a chain of bodies pressed close but never close enough to share real warmth. Grady stamped his feet against the pavement for the hundredth time just to remind himself that his toes still existed.

The sound was sharp against concrete and rang like iron in the negative twelve de…

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The kitchen smelled of freshly baked poppy seed bread their mother only made during the winter holidays and the five Novak Roberts siblings sat around the same table where they’d eaten countless meals as children. Through the window, snow fell steadily on their parents’ backyard, clinging to the windows, heavy and …

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The puck skittered across the ice like a nervous animal, and Anthony Korbin Riendeau chased it with the single minded determination that had made him a decent center, if not a spectacular one. His breath came in white plumes that the wind snatched away immediately, and somewhere behind him he could hear Jamal shouting something that was probably strateg…

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She didn’t understand what had come over her when see had volunteered to work on the student’s winter play. Whatever had possessed her at the end of September was quickly forgotten and it was not until the end of October when her department chair reminded her that practices would start in November that she truly started to think about what she had gotte…

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Father Frost was a fraud.

Miriam knew that now. Because today in class her teacher had taught them about snow and how it was like rain but frozen into tiny ice crystals that fall from the sky when it’s cold enough, but not too cold. Her teacher had said that when air climbs higher and higher it gets colder, which didn’t really make sense to Miriam becaus…

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When I first mentally devised this Prologue, it was meant to do a couple of things, obviously since that is their purpose after all; I wanted to set the general time period and I wanted to lay some history of the world, people and places.

I think originally what I envisioned was a sort of performative monologue by the character called Rimah Sari in this draft. Verik here is meant to be this young newly minted soldier who is of a low rank and eager to make the most of where he is and to see a show that people have been talking about. He is eager to see this play by Rimah Sari, and I called it a play in this draft and I called Rimah Sari a playwright.

I liked my description of Rimah and how she began her performance. Mentally again I was envisioning a sort of historical monologue performed from her cultural and historical background which would run counter to the prevailing beliefs of the audience.

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Hi!

I’m excited to announce that my short story, The Day the Stars Changed, will be available as part of the Smashwords 2025 End of Year Sale! This is a chance to get my book, along with books from many other great authors, at a promotional discount.

You can find the promo here: http://smashwords.com/sale

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Prologue

“Good evening,” the clerk said, eyeing Verik’s shoulder patch and likely noting the plain green patch. “How can I help you?” Verik quickly pulled his gloves finger by finger, the leather, not yet worn smooth by years of wear and tear, tight against his hands. He placed them carefully on the stone counter of the theater’s ticket box and pulled out his pouch of coins and setting them beside his gloves, knocking one of them off in the process.

Behind the brass latticed grille, the clerk, a thin man whose spectacles caught the gaslight and threw it back in geometric fragments, looked up at Verik with the particular expression of someone accustomed to being patient with people.

“A ticket,” he said, and then, bent down to retrieve his fallen glove, “for the evening’s performance. The new work by...” He consulted a small card he’d kept in his breast pocket for three weeks, its edges soft from handling. “By Rimah Sari.”

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I’ve been working on a new project lately, and as I’ve developed it, I’ve found myself wanting to try something different, something experimental that breaks from the traditional model of writing in isolation and only sharing polished, finished work.

The Idea: Writing as Process, Not Just Product

Most readers only see the final version of a story, the pol…

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Over the last couple of months, I've found myself in a bit of a weird psychological space, one that I wouldn’t quite call imposter syndrome, but still has its own challenges. I don't feel like a fraud or an imposter in my writing. I believe in my stories, my voice, and my abilities to write. But there's another voice sometimes that creeps in, ‘will I ev…

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Dear Readers,

Today marks a significant milestone in my journey as an author. I'm thrilled to announce that "The Day the Stars Changed" is now available for purchase! This short story represents not just the culmination of months of writing, editing, and refining, but also the official launch of my literary storytelling space.

A Heartfelt Thank You

First a…

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Currencies are more than just pieces of metal or paper. They are stories waiting to be told, miniature canvases that capture the soul of a nation, its history, its aspirations, and its identity. My journey into numismatics began long before I understood what that word even meant.

I remember those early museum visits,…

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Behind the Curtain: The Details of Nation-Building

While I've been sharing stories from the Great Lakes Democratic Republic, there's been an enormous amount of behind-the-scenes work happening. World-building, requires attention to countless small details that make a fictional universe feel real and lived-in. One of the challenges I have been taking on h…

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Investigating Crime: A New Direction in My Literary Universe

Like many of you, I have found it impossible, at times, to escape the world of true crime podcasts and crime fiction. It's a fascination several people close to me have, they devour everything from psychological thrillers to detailed true crime investigations. This interest of those close to me…

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Inspector James Chen Morowitz had always maintained that the most peculiar occurrences happen on holidays, when the world thinks itself safe in the comfort of tradition. This Christmas morning would prove him right in the most unsettling way. Chen’s bare feet touched the cold floor of his apartment as he rose, still groggy from what felt like an unusual…

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As the ships' horns blare in the distance, signaling the official handover of sovereignty, I can't help but think about how we got here, to this moment where the Stars and Stripes finally lowers for the last time over the Great Lakes. As I watch the crowd surge with excitement, I'm struck by how quickly the impossible became reality. Less than two years ago, the very idea of an independent Great Lakes nation was dismissed as the pipe dream of union agitators and radical intellectuals. Yet here we stand, our flag flying proudly over the waters that have always been our true home.

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