The Pacific Trash Psalm
She survives by staying afloat and staying quiet, trading in the scraps of a world that has already ended. But when the ocean starts remembering her out loud, she is forced to face the possibility that she was never meant to survive it.
Glass Eyes at Century City
Century City gleams like paradise until one woman sees the mouths moving without swallowing, the reflections nodding when the bodies do not, and the mannequins stepping quietly down from their pedestals. Beneath the mall’s flawless surfaces waits a horror of assimilation, where the final luxury is becoming perfectly still.
Control Subject 516
When a state-sanctioned soulmate system activates and everyone around her is violently pulled into their assigned future, one woman is left untouched. What begins as isolation soon reveals itself as something worse: she was never meant to be matched, only watched.
Race You Back to the Car!
In a ruined medical zone haunted by falling hatchets and impossible visions, a nurse keeps saving everyone she can while something in the sky refuses to strike her. The longer she remains untouched, the clearer it becomes that the real wound was never the apocalypse, but what she has carried through it.
Somewhere, Paramore is Playing…
In the aftermath of an unthinkable rupture, a woman trapped in solitary confinement slips into a reality that feels stitched together from longing, music, and mercy. There, beyond fear and concrete, she finds the version of escape the world never meant to give her.
Tier 2: Glitchgirl Core
After being upgraded into a hyper-curated Tier 1 society, a woman discovers that every trend, voice, and identity has been stolen from the people below her. Instead of playing the role she was finally given, she rewrites the system from the inside until it starts to break.
Writing The California Fever Dream
“Outside, the sky began changing colors like it was unsure which version of the sunset to run. A Joshua Tree caught fire, silently. Beautifully. And then reassembled itself in reverse.”
— Static at the edge of 29 Palms
“She could taste the day. Hot pennies. Sunscreen. The faint chemical sweetness of melted plastic… She told herself this was normal. California normal. A climate that didn’t ask permission.”
— What California Makes
“The heat was biblical and immediate. By the time she had crossed the wash and climbed the low rise beyond it, her shirt was sticking to her back and her thoughts had gone strangely bright around the edges.”