Writing by Elizabeth McEntee

"Upon a comet never named, under a bleakly-forming coma sky, among the ice and dust caking the nucleus like an ideal antithesis of moss, was a door. And as with everything on that comet, that door belonged to me. I was quite proud of that door. I created it myself. It was primarily made of ice and reinforced with dust, which worked perfectly in that chilly climate. It kept the outside outside and the inside inside, and that fact mattered more than the details of what exactly was on either side. It formed my place of solace away from the bright glare of the universe past the sublimation. It was my first creation, and a necessity, for without it, I would have been in terrible trouble when the comet was in perihelion with a star, which was bound to occur now and then. I sometimes likened my new state to being a vampire. But there was no blood anywhere, nor within, as my consciousness now inhabited a body of ice and dust. And as far as I was concerned, that was how it had always been, one way or another. There was only ice and dust in my soul, and my door may have just as well been part of my body. We were the same: we let a little light through, scattered the rest, and were proud of it."

First paragraph of "Perihelia", published in Luna Station Quarterly Issue 046.



I am currently working on a novel, more details in the future.