Happy Birthday to me! And Stephanie Burgis! And P.A. Cornell!

Today is a great day to be born if you want to be a writer! It's my birthday, and it's also the birthday of two Worlds of Possibility contributors: Stephanie Burgis and P.A. Cornell! To celebrate, I've narrated two of their stories from Worlds of Possibility Volume 2! You can get the whole ebook of that anthology for free here!

I am also sharing my watercolor pencil drawing of a phoenix, for reasons that will become clear later in this post.

You can read the text of the two stories below, and you can also listen to them on the OMG Julia Podcast.

So, Your Child Turned Out to Be a Phoenix: A Few Words of Advice and Responses to Common Concerns Expressed by Parents, from Dr. V. Goldfinch, PhD

by Stephanie Burgis

(Short story: 600 words)

Look, my darlings, of course you’re concerned by this discovery. You thought you were raising an ordinary brown sparrow, just like all of your friends, only to see your chick’s soft baby fluff replaced by tell-tale, flame-colored feathers. Now, a hot, cinnamon scent, like the fires of possibility, fills your nest, and your child is revealed to be a glorious creature from legend. How could you not be caught off guard?

Just remember: it’s a gift.

“How can you call it a gift? They will burn, again and again. It’s unbearable to imagine!”

It is true that with those feathers, they’ll never blend in like you and your siblings did. And in the end, no matter how hard you fight to protect them, they will have to burn to survive. That’s simply part of the immortal package. 

But none of us can shield our children from all pain — and each time they burn, they’ll be reborn more magical than ever.

“But I don’t want them to be different. What if I don’t recognize them in their new forms?”

Darlings. Did you first know your chicks by the patterns of the feathers that they hadn’t even grown when they first stumbled, cheeping, from their eggs? Or did you know them as your own even before they hatched, as they chirped back and forth to you through their shells and you shielded them with the warmth of your body against harm?

“But what will the other birds say?”

Here’s something I already know about you, worried parent, because your child survived this far. You must have learned, during the long, hard wait of incubation, how to fight against the elements and the predators who menaced your unhatched young. Your instincts told you exactly what to do when a weasel’s eyes glowed in the darkness nearby or a human stomped too close to your nest.

So I’m telling you: draw on that fierce strength again now — even if the latest threat to your child wears the face of neighborly concern as she pecks uncomfortably close to your tailfeathers and claims to be “only asking questions” for the safety of the flock.

“But I had so many plans for their future.”

What parent doesn’t? But the most ancient proverb pecked into petrified wood reads: ‘A plan is a wish tossed into the wind. Don’t be swept away with it!’ 

If you spend your time flapping frantically, trying to catch seeds already blown away in this morning’s breeze, you’ll never spot the fresh, new fruit before your claws.

Your chick’s future may look different than you’d imagined. They may not be happy, once they’re grown, to settle for the safety of your flock. That flock may not even represent safety to them, as it does to you.

Instead, they may choose to fly off on fairytale adventures, leading younger sons to unexpected fortunes and teaching desperate princesses how to fly. Their exploits will go down in legend.

Won’t you love listening to the stories they bring back?

“But what if they forget us in their new incarnations?”

Well, my love, there’s only one way to ensure they won’t. We all know that every time they burn, they’ll be reborn...

So be certain to be there, waiting to greet them as they emerge, offering them fresh seeds to restore their energy and grooming their shining new feathers to remove every last, lingering touch of ash.

Let them see your wonder and your awe, and remember:

Phoenixes are immortal. Love can be, too. 

But only you can make that happen.

* * *

Stephanie Burgis grew up in Michigan but now lives in Wales with her husband and two kids, surrounded by mountains, castles and coffee shops. She writes sparkling fantasy rom-coms, including Wooing the Witch Queen (the first in the Queens of Villainy trilogy), the Regency Dragons series, the Harwood Spellbook series, and more. She has also had eight MG fantasy novels published, including the Kat, Incorrigible trilogy, the Dragon with a Chocolate Heart trilogy, and the Raven Crown duology. A graduate of the Clarion West workshop, she has had over forty short stories published in various magazines and anthologies, and many of them are included in her collection Touchstones. You can find excerpts from all of her novels and novellas (and links to many of her short stories) at her website: stephanieburgis.com

Editor's note:

I love this story because it's all about accepting differences, and understanding that they can be beautiful and wondrous, even if they are unexpected, or potentially difficult. In celebration of this story and as a birthday gift to myself, I've donated a bit to Mermaids, a UK based organization that exists to support trans people, especially children. Right now, I feel like trans kids especially need our support, as in the UK and the US and in many other places, they are facing social and legal oppression. Trans people of all ages deserve to live their lives and to be celebrated. If you'd like to give me a birthday present, I encourage you to donate to Mermaids, or to another organization that supports trans rights or helps trans people in some way.

I drew this phoenix as a celebration of this story, and to have fun and stretch my creative muscles. I've been playing with watercolor pencils for the last little while because in this world of constant AI noise, I find it hopeful and affirming to create tangible artwork that I personally know is real! I'm not a pro by any stretch, but the act of creation makes me happy, and I love seeing the bright color blends. I hope you enjoy seeing them, too.

Our next story is another story about parents and children and accepting differences and allowing your children to fly. It's lovely to me that these are both so similar, and yet also quite different!

Feathers
by P.A. Cornell

Short story: 760 words

Her father and I only had one night together, and he said he was an angel, but I thought it was just something guys say to get you to sleep with them and promptly put it out of my mind. Angie was born nine months later, a perfectly healthy girl with all the usual parts. It wasn’t until a few weeks passed that little bumps appeared on her back. I called a colleague in pediatrics, but by the morning of the appointment the bumps had changed to feathers, and I understood.

I watched the feathers grow in number over that first year, until they became two fully-formed wings of gleaming white. They were beautiful, but they terrified me. They marked her as ‘different’ and I remembered from my own childhood that this was never good. 

I could hide them under clothing well enough, but I lived in fear that others would see.

As she grew, I kept her from swimming and sleepovers. Made her promise she’d never change for gym in front of anyone. When she got sick, I cared for her myself, praying she’d never need medical attention beyond what I could treat. Maybe I was wrong to hide this part of her — to make her hide it.

Angie had always been a sensitive kid. Sweet and vulnerable. I should’ve known meaner kids would target her. Make her feel othered. Flames I only fueled through my own fears.

The first time I came across a black feather, I thought it was one she’d found somewhere. Some crow or raven’s loss. I picked it up off the floor while tidying her room and placed it on her desk without a thought.

When she was little, she’d been joyful, friendly, full of smiles. But by her teens she became sullen. Introverted. She barely left her room.

I stopped having to remind her to hide her wings. She did that herself, wearing bulky black sweaters, avoiding any occasion that might reveal them. Dances, dates, clothing shopping at the mall.

“You never have your friends over,” I’d say.

She’d shrug, and I’d find myself wondering if she had friends.

One day I came home unexpectedly, catching her coming out of the bathroom wrapped in only a towel. And there I saw that the feathers that had once been almost too bright to look at, had become grey and damaged. When she saw me, she screamed, several feathers turning black before falling to the floor.

“Angela!” I gasped, but she ran to her room and locked the door, ignoring my pleas to be allowed in.

Later I’d ask how long this had been happening, but she’d only shrug.

“I hate myself,” she said. “I hate the way I look. I hate this body.”

I held back tears. She’d always been the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. How could she possibly feel that way? But then I understood my part in it. I saw how I’d made her ashamed—how I’d made her think there was something wrong with her. How the pain she felt could be seen on each feather that greyed, then blackened, then fell to the floor.

“Angie, I’m so sorry,” I said, knowing my words weren’t enough to heal the damage life had inflicted on her.

Rising from my seat, I grabbed the kitchen shears and headed to her room. One by one I took each shirt she owned and cut two slits into the back.

“Mom, no! What are you doing?” she cried.

Undeterred, I went on. “You’re perfect just the way you are. You don’t need to hide your beautiful wings. Not from me or anyone.”

She watched me for a while, then reached into her desk drawer for a second pair of scissors. Together we cut slits in every top and jacket we could find. By the end we were laughing and crying all at once.

“We missed one,” Angie said, squirming uncomfortably inside her sweater. She pulled it over her head and handed it to me, leaving her in just her bra, which didn’t obstruct her wings. I watched then as her feathers began to change from grey to white. Then as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she stretched her wings so wide they spanned the room and lit it up like the sun. Her beauty overwhelmed me and brought renewed tears to my eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, tucking her wings back.

“No,” I said. “Don’t apologize. You’re exactly who you’re meant to be, and you’re perfect.”

* * *

P.A. Cornell is a Chilean-Canadian speculative fiction writer. A graduate of the Odyssey workshop, her stories have been published in over sixty magazines and anthologies, including Lightspeed, Apex, and four “Best of” anthologies. In addition to becoming the first Chilean Nebula finalist in 2024, Cornell has been a finalist for the Aurora and World Fantasy Awards, long-listed for the BSFA Awards, and in 2022 won Canada’s Short Works Prize. When not writing, she can be found assembling intricate LEGO builds or drinking ridiculous quantities of tea. Sometimes both. For more on the author and her work, visit her website pacornell.com.

I hope you love these stories as much as I do! Both of these stories are included in Worlds of Possibility Volume 2, and you can get the ebook version of that for free here!

If you would like to give a birthday present to Stephanie Burgis:

• Consider buying one of her books, like Wooing the Witch Queen, which just won the Romantic Novel of the Year Award for best Romantasy!
• You can also support Stephanie on Patreon, where she posts new work and shares book recommendations and does monthly Q&A sessions.

If you would like to give a birthday present to P.A. Cornell:

• Consider buying a copy of her delightful retrofuture story, Shoeshine Boy and Cigarette Girl!
• You can also sign up for her free monthly newsletter to keep up with all her future work.