The Village, The Garden
Eden hates the silence.
The kind that happens past midnight, when the village streets are empty. When everyone is asleep, and the rusted fan groans to a stop with the blackouts.
She wakes to the silence. Her heart pounds. There is a fear there, one that she can’t name. She pulls her covers over her…
Divinity
I remember the news before I left. Most of it was hopeful, looking to the cosmic irregularity with a sense of urgency and determination: “Francesca Williams will make it through the wormhole, and she will find us a home.”
A. C. Rosenfeld 