On the 12th day of Christmas, the pine trees gave to me, 12 lumps of charcoal, the dark eyes of a dozen snowmen, to keep with me through every season, so when winter comes again and their bodies are remade, they will already know my weakness and fear, and forgive me for both

11 supernovae, spread throughout the sky, each one guiding me to new lands and loves, playing with the constellations and scattering the zodiac, to remind me that even the glorious lights in the heavens are changeable, impermanent, should I even start to mistake them for divinity

10 jars of song-ink, a black so deep it resonates within the heart, to translate into music the emotions I begin to understand on rooftops, in ghost towns, and in the predawn hours, to push the edge of humanity’s instincts and prepare us for the coming age of beautiful loneliness

9 broken mirrors, their gilded spiderweb cracks sealing the worlds behind the glass, severing my connection to the reflections, so I can watch their timelines diverge from ours, see the outcomes of choices made differently, and plan my escape should this reality begin to crumble

8 fallen teardrops, frozen in time, each one shed by someone I love because of my words, a catalogue of the hurt and joy and catharsis I had caused, to stand as witnesses for me in the unrecognizable future, proof that I am human, put forward by beating hearts bearing my scars

Please stand by. Coniferous University has received reports of unwitting time travelers erroneously marooned in 2025. We apologize for the error. Those affected by the error will be rerouted to 2026 shortly. Those responsible for the error have been sent to 2020 as punishment.

T. R. Darling Elegy, Feldspar, and Nerii heave the chain. The hooked worm emerges from Ooavoo’s flesh easily. “STOP!” The figure you met before flickers into sight. “What are you doing?!” “Just a bit of surgery,” you reply. “Ooavoo doesn’t seem to mind.” “Fools! You are killing the dragon!”