Thank you so much. “Ethereal and visceral” is such a meaningful combination for a writer to hear. I always hope the atmosphere feels dreamlike while the emotions remain human and close to the skin. It truly means a great deal coming from another writer.
Patience and time is right. My top drawer is full of stories waiting on a line or two or even an ending to bring them to life. It’s good to know other writers feel the same! Thank you, Martin.
You’re sincerely welcome, Martin. I know how much time fiction takes because I also write a lot of both flash and short fiction. It’s like having a disease … the stories are inside and clamoring to get out and yet when we begin, it’s difficult and it takes time.
That truly means a lot, especially coming from you. I’m honored that you featured the story in Crown Valley Quarterly and grateful for the care you gave it.
I think that’s what frightened me most while writing it: the sense that stories like this do not belong to one town or one decade. Only the names change. The silence afterward rarely does.
And the pendulum seems to be swinging back towards this kind of clandestine (although it’s becoming more and more open) persecution in places that used to declare freedom of thought. Even more reason these stories are important now.
That feeling of “what now?” is exactly what I hoped the story would leave behind (not shock, but the slow dread that enters ordinary rooms and stays there).
The details in this story make it powerful and haunting--the description of the moonlight falling into the room, the scar on Elias' thumb, the sounds and smells in each scene. Deep emotion is also conveyed with a few well-chosen words. This passage is especially striking with its palpable sense of foreboding:
"He kissed her once.
Not quickly.
Not as a man in danger.
As a man trying to leave behind the version of himself he hoped she would remember."
I’m especially glad the physical details stayed with you. I wanted the story to feel lived in as if memory itself had settled into the room.
And thank you for singling out that passage. I think Elias already knows, somewhere quiet inside him, that he may not come back. The tragedy is that he still goes.
Hi, Martin! Your writing is ethereal and visceral. I loved this story!
Thank you so much. “Ethereal and visceral” is such a meaningful combination for a writer to hear. I always hope the atmosphere feels dreamlike while the emotions remain human and close to the skin. It truly means a great deal coming from another writer.
Your responses are gracious and eloquent.☺️🫶 Thank you!
I enjoyed your story, Martin. You're a good writer.
Thank you kindly, C.J.
That’s deeply encouraging to hear. I’m trying to write stories that linger a little after the final line and I’m grateful this one stayed with you.
You’ll go far here, Martin. Your writing will catch on and I’ll be one of many who applauds you. Write on …
That’s exactly it, C.J.
The stories often arrive faster than the words for them. The writing itself takes patience and time.
It’s genuinely comforting to hear that from another writer.
Patience and time is right. My top drawer is full of stories waiting on a line or two or even an ending to bring them to life. It’s good to know other writers feel the same! Thank you, Martin.
Thank you, C.J.
That means more to me than I can fully express. Stories like this take time and care, so encouragement like yours truly stays with a writer.
I’m grateful you found something in it worth carrying forward.
You’re sincerely welcome, Martin. I know how much time fiction takes because I also write a lot of both flash and short fiction. It’s like having a disease … the stories are inside and clamoring to get out and yet when we begin, it’s difficult and it takes time.
Great story. The darkness of your style is redeemed by your good heart. I featured it in Crown Valley Quarterly. I hope you like how I presented it: https://liveyosemite.wordpress.com/2026/05/04/crown-valley-quarterly/
Douglas, thank you so much.
That truly means a lot, especially coming from you. I’m honored that you featured the story in Crown Valley Quarterly and grateful for the care you gave it.
The sad thing is this very scenario has played out countless times in countless places. You captured it beautifully. 💡
Thank you, Alicia.
I think that’s what frightened me most while writing it: the sense that stories like this do not belong to one town or one decade. Only the names change. The silence afterward rarely does.
And the pendulum seems to be swinging back towards this kind of clandestine (although it’s becoming more and more open) persecution in places that used to declare freedom of thought. Even more reason these stories are important now.
Wow! It’s a great story! And the details made me feel apprehensive, like “oh, my God, what now?” I like the way you write and also the cover!
Thank you, Ana.
That feeling of “what now?” is exactly what I hoped the story would leave behind (not shock, but the slow dread that enters ordinary rooms and stays there).
I’m so glad the cover worked for you too.
The details in this story make it powerful and haunting--the description of the moonlight falling into the room, the scar on Elias' thumb, the sounds and smells in each scene. Deep emotion is also conveyed with a few well-chosen words. This passage is especially striking with its palpable sense of foreboding:
"He kissed her once.
Not quickly.
Not as a man in danger.
As a man trying to leave behind the version of himself he hoped she would remember."
Thank you so much, Iva.
I’m especially glad the physical details stayed with you. I wanted the story to feel lived in as if memory itself had settled into the room.
And thank you for singling out that passage. I think Elias already knows, somewhere quiet inside him, that he may not come back. The tragedy is that he still goes.