A.R. Knight

A courier has his breakfast interrupted when a friend goes missing on a far flung space station.

The day began and ended with heat. They huddled in their claimed kingdom, a gray structure that stored the source of their survival.

The new law cradled in her hand, red, thin, light.

You never take the right path through the woods, particularly after a blood moon.

They always came out after the parties. After the music stopped but the masks were still on, when the guests scattered into the hushed streets to forget the hours that'd just passed.