Writing to the Moon and Back
What began as just a simple idea between two writers quickly became a simple blog between two writers. Since it took us almost four months to come up with the name of the blog (rejected names included The Lickable Bible, Clishmaclaver, and Word Vacuum), we expect it to be incredibly weird and exciting.
The Last Space is a portfolio of ideas, stories, and creative energy by Kyle Turner & Tracy Wheatley.
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The tea kettle whistled, and she shuffled over to her stove, paying no mind to the cat circling her ankles. They knew each other too well for either of them to get tripped up. She turned off the burner and waited until the water was not quite boiling and poured it into her waiting mug, letting the earl grey steep.
They cuddled up under the blankets and talked about their weekend plans, dreams for the future, and briefly argued about the absolute best way to cook an egg. They laughed and snuggled, pressed against each other under a dozen blankets, perfectly content while the sun faded over the horizon and the stars came out.
They sat in Rosa’s room and drank together. Alistair excused themselves fairly quickly. Then Reginald, then Francine. Barcy and Abilene stuck around. Barcy had another bottle of wine for each of them, and by 10 o’clock they were all pretty tipsy. Barcy laid on the floor with her head in Rosa’s lap while Rosa stroked her hair. It was nice to not have to think about leaving. She could get used to this.
Loud and even bass notes punched Jesse’s bones, invigorating them rather than adding to their weariness. Just walking into the North Gate bar district allowed him to enjoy a new frame of mind. One that wasn’t focused on eating a dozen eggs or moving a feather across a room. Now Jesse got to participate in a youth tradition that stretched back centuries among various cultures.
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” the genie sighed, “All those people got one wish from me. You know how your kind are. One guy says I granted one wish. The next guy decides he got two out of me. Suddenly, I’m supposed to be throwing out bundles of wishes like they are on sale.”
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