Twice-Spent Comet by Ziggy Schutz is a poignant novella that intertwines elements of science fiction and fairy tale to explore themes of redemption, found family, and the enduring power of hope. The narrative centers on Fer, a former rebel now serving a fifteen-year sentence on a desolate asteroid alongside a handful of other convicts. Their monotonous existence is disrupted when Fer encounters Ophelia, a celestial mermaid, igniting a journey toward self-discovery and connection.

Schutz’s prose is both lyrical and immersive, effectively conveying the isolation and longing that permeate Fer’s life. The novella’s structure is notable, with each chapter beginning with a fairy tale-like snippet that sets the tone for the unfolding events. This stylistic choice enriches the narrative, adding depth to the world-building and enhancing the theme of magic that threads through the story.

The character development is particularly compelling. Fer emerges as a multifaceted protagonist whose internal struggles and gradual journey to openness resonate deeply. Ziggy Schutz excels in crafting a richly diverse and authentic cast of LGBTQ characters, seamlessly weaving their identities into the fabric of the story. The representation feels natural and unforced, allowing the characters’ sexualities and gender identities to enhance the narrative without overshadowing it. This thoughtful approach not only enriches the story but also creates a powerful sense of inclusivity, making Twice-Spent Comet a standout work in this regard.

An intriguing storyline in Twice-Spent Comet involves Fer’s former rebel partner and explores themes of growth and emotional closure. It serves as a poignant backdrop to Fer’s blossoming relationship with Ophelia.

Twice-Spent Comet is a beautifully crafted novella that seamlessly blends the ethereal with the tangible, creating a narrative that lingers long after the final page. Ziggy Schutz has delivered a heartfelt tale that speaks to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of connection. A must read.

TWICE-SPENT COMET by Ziggy Schutz

GENRE: Science Fiction / LGBTQ

BOOK PAGE:  https://meerkatpress.com/books/twice-spent-comet/

The fall from hopeful revolutionary to prison laborer is a hard one. Fer’s world has shrunk from the whole damn universe to this anonymous asteroid and the four other convicts who share it with them. It’s a fitting end, for someone who used to wish on stars but now can only seem to collect endings.

But magic and falling stars have ways of finding those who need them, and when Fer takes a chance and looks up, there’s a mermaid staring back at them, silhouetted by stars.

twice-spent comet is a fairy tale for forgotten places and the people whose stories are stuck waiting for the next sentence.

BUY LINKS: Bookshop.org  |  Amazon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Ziggy Schutz is a young queer writer living on the west coast of Canada. She’s been a fan of superheroes almost as long as she’s been writing, so she’s very excited this is the form her first published work took.

When not writing, she can often be found stage managing local musicals and mouthing the words to all the songs. Ziggy can be found at @ziggytschutz, where she’s probably ranting about representation in fiction.

GIVEAWAY: $25 Meerkat Press Giftcard

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EXCERPT

1

In the beginning, before Humans had claimed the stars as their own, they held hands as they watched lights streak across the sky and called it Magic.

Magic, as everyone knows, must be Spoken and Heard and Believed, and so it was so, that stars were Magic, and those that fell especially so.

Sometimes, the beginnings of stories are just as simple as that.

~~

Waking up is always the hardest part.

Fer’s been on this rock long enough that they’ve gotten used to the routine. Even grown to almost like it. Maybe it is just like an earthborn kid, to search for the positives of the place that’s going to kill you, but it’s hardly the worst of the habits Fer was born into. On the days that feel just that much longer, they even take to listing those positives, counting them off on fingers that no longer swell with just one day’s work.

They like how easy the work has gotten, when early on they’d barely been able to make it through the day. They like their new muscles, filling out fabric that had hung loose before. They’re fed better here than they were in the prison or the transfer ship, and the companionship is a huge upgrade.

The transfer ship’s captain wasn’t a fan of lights for the prisoners. Wasn’t a fan of much chatter, either. And in the dark, people lose things. Faceless, silent shapes. That’s what the prisoners became, on that ship. Fer paced their cell aimlessly, spilled ink on a blank page. Even now, months later, there are days where words sit heavy on their tongue. Like they’re a limited resource, waiting to be wasted.

Waking up has always been a slow process for Fer. On bad days, they wake up on that ship. On the worst days, there’s a moment where they forget they ever got caught at all. Where in the moment before they’re properly awake they really do expect to see the cluttered walls of their last hideout—dangerously close to being a home. Back before Adrastea happened, and everything went tits-up.

Then they open their eyes to the soft curves of their small cell, and they remember they’re here. Officially occupying the middle of nowhere, six months into a fifteen-year sentence they’re not expected to survive. And everything presses down on them, like artificial gravity.

But, hey. Could be worse.

Fer reaches over, taps the speaker set into the wall so that it’ll stop telling them to wake up. They step into their orange jumpsuit, garishly bright against the soft blues of the metal walls. With an underlayer that will glow even brighter in the event of a loss of light, the suit is “the height of prisoner-safety technology,” according to the worker who had issued it to Fer. As if Fer wouldn’t notice the fraying seams or dried blood staining the cuff of one of the five otherwise-identical suits.

They saved that one for days when they felt especially lucky. Or bitter.

Today, they’re mostly feeling hungry.

They duck through their empty doorway—no doors here, no barricading yourself away, just a thin audio divider that always feels slimy when stepped through—and into the common room, letting the noise of the only other occupants on this asteroid roll over them.

The best thing about prison is other people. Who knew?