My flash story "Between you and me" has been published by an online journal CRIT (Crossing Rivers into Twilight) -- it's been up online for a few weeks already, but I've never been sure that the issue is officially released and the link stable. I'll assume so right now.

I also checked in with Drollerie Press this week -- back in July they wanted to publish my story "June's Flowers" in a book called Trick the Object: An Anthology of the Literary Weird. In September that project fell apart, but now they are planning to include my text in another spookily titled anthology Things that go Bump in the Night. Deena the editor promises that it'll be out as an ebook by the end of the month.

I finished both pieces at least 2 years ago -- and while I learned a lot while writing them, I learned even more since. To look at them now is almost embarrassing -- and yet I know I should be proud -- but really they have no relationship to me any longer. Maybe the idea I had when I was 12 of signing each new story I wrote with a different pen name was a brilliant one and should be carried on. Maybe I should even reuse those names, heavy on vowels and elfish spirit: Aolin Faoly, Elian Daily, Velly Berg. Maybe I should also type up those stories, edit and translate them, and attempt to get them published: after all, even then I was writing about separation and space. My most recent accomplishments pale in comparison.