An Owomoyela

We would not harvest your forms. But you would keep your colony to the lands prescribed for you, and you would make your own shells against our atmosphere, and you would accept our law should you venture out.

That which touches the air belongs to us.

When I was sixteen I was studying hydroponics and genetic selection. In the heat of the greenhouse it wasn’t exactly subtle that I preferred long clothing, high collars, and gloves.

That which touches the air belongs to us.

This first week of the Write-a-Thon had me completeing - at 7400 words - the first draft of That Which Touches The Air, a somewhat claustrophobic space opera about a boy and his phobia of parasitic colonization. Surprisingly, it's not actually a metaphor for colonization.

Well. Not a conscious one, anyway.

( A bit of discussion, some further excerpts, and a nod or two lie within the cut. )

I'm powering on into my next work of fiction; today, at least, it looks like it'll be a short story called Redacted. We'll see by this time next week what I actually end up finishing!

I've garnered a few sponsorships in my name already, and I extend a hearty THANK YOU! to people who have sponsored me. I'd love it if people would keep donating – find my author page, and throw some money to a worthy cause! Also, it's tax-deductable, so that's awesome too. I'm matching the first $100 to be sponsored in my name.