The restraint here is breathtaking. You captured something terrifying without gothic tropes—just pencil marks and an eleven-year-old's cold logic trying to quantify grief. The final line—‘The world had once moved while she slept, and she had learned to count the distance before it reached her’—shows masterful character synthesis. This resonated so deeply with how trauma lingers in the body and mind. The idea that hyper-vigilance isn't just a quirk, but a survival mechanism, is something so many people live with quietly. You managed to take an abstract psychological state and ground it in something physical, tangible, and eerie.
I agree Jay! I am honored to give this story a home in The Hall of Sleeping Stories. The author is Jonathan B. Edvane @jbedvan I highly recommend checking out the rest of his work: https://jbedvane.substack.com/?utm_campaign=profile_chips
Thank you for clarifying, Audrey—and for giving Jonathan’s story such a fitting home. Jonathan, this piece demonstrates extraordinary restraint and psychological insight. That final image has stayed with me, and I’m grateful Audrey introduced me to your work. I’ll certainly be reading more.
I concede that I wasn’t thinking about it in those terms while writing. The story emerged as an adaptation. I had spent a while researching it and it had fizzled out. I came upon a prompt for an issue of Space and Time magazine, finished the story for that, and rushed to submit it on the last day. They passed on it and I received praise from the editor, it just didn’t align with the theme of the issue quite well enough. And then I thought about Audrey’s Hall and knew where it belonged.
That history makes the story even more fascinating, Jonathan. Sometimes a writer’s instincts create meaning before the conscious mind names it, and readers discover dimensions the author was not deliberately constructing. The Space and Time response sounds less like a judgment on the story than a matter of fit—and Audrey’s Hall ultimately feels like the home it was trying to find.
Actually I can share the note from the editor. All writers are going to face rejection but usually it is through silence. I take this at face value : Dear Jonathan,
Thank you for trusting me with “The Advancing” and giving me the opportunity to consider it for “Prepare to Advance” of Space & Time.
This piece was among the finalists, and I returned to it several times while building the issue. I loved the way Judith’s habit of measuring becomes both the story’s structure and its lasting wound. The image of the coffin advancing night by night, marked in pencil across the floor, is terrifying, and the line about her fearing both that Sloane would reach Thomas’s room and that he would not gives the haunting a powerful emotional complexity. The final realization that some habits are really survivals stayed with me.
Ultimately, the decision came down less to the strength of the individual work than to the larger narrative arc created by the selected pieces and how their themes, emotional movement, and endings worked together as one complete reading experience. As much as I admired this piece, it did not fit the final composition closely enough for me to include it.
I know a rejection can feel much larger than a single editorial decision, but that is all this is: one decision made for one particular issue. A pass does not define the value of your work or close the door on future submissions.
I sincerely hope you’ll send me more of your work when submissions reopen.
You’re also welcome to stay connected at authortunitiespress.com, where I share publishing resources, creative opportunities, classes, books, and support for writers.
Thank you again for allowing me to read your work.
The restraint here is breathtaking. You captured something terrifying without gothic tropes—just pencil marks and an eleven-year-old's cold logic trying to quantify grief. The final line—‘The world had once moved while she slept, and she had learned to count the distance before it reached her’—shows masterful character synthesis. This resonated so deeply with how trauma lingers in the body and mind. The idea that hyper-vigilance isn't just a quirk, but a survival mechanism, is something so many people live with quietly. You managed to take an abstract psychological state and ground it in something physical, tangible, and eerie.
I agree Jay! I am honored to give this story a home in The Hall of Sleeping Stories. The author is Jonathan B. Edvane @jbedvan I highly recommend checking out the rest of his work: https://jbedvane.substack.com/?utm_campaign=profile_chips
Thank you for clarifying, Audrey—and for giving Jonathan’s story such a fitting home. Jonathan, this piece demonstrates extraordinary restraint and psychological insight. That final image has stayed with me, and I’m grateful Audrey introduced me to your work. I’ll certainly be reading more.
Thankyou Jay. On Substack I am primarily focused on a dark fantasy project. My other writing can be found at edvanestories.com
I concede that I wasn’t thinking about it in those terms while writing. The story emerged as an adaptation. I had spent a while researching it and it had fizzled out. I came upon a prompt for an issue of Space and Time magazine, finished the story for that, and rushed to submit it on the last day. They passed on it and I received praise from the editor, it just didn’t align with the theme of the issue quite well enough. And then I thought about Audrey’s Hall and knew where it belonged.
That history makes the story even more fascinating, Jonathan. Sometimes a writer’s instincts create meaning before the conscious mind names it, and readers discover dimensions the author was not deliberately constructing. The Space and Time response sounds less like a judgment on the story than a matter of fit—and Audrey’s Hall ultimately feels like the home it was trying to find.
Can I just add that I adore the artwork AUdrey created for this.
Thank you! I'm so glad.
Actually I can share the note from the editor. All writers are going to face rejection but usually it is through silence. I take this at face value : Dear Jonathan,
Thank you for trusting me with “The Advancing” and giving me the opportunity to consider it for “Prepare to Advance” of Space & Time.
This piece was among the finalists, and I returned to it several times while building the issue. I loved the way Judith’s habit of measuring becomes both the story’s structure and its lasting wound. The image of the coffin advancing night by night, marked in pencil across the floor, is terrifying, and the line about her fearing both that Sloane would reach Thomas’s room and that he would not gives the haunting a powerful emotional complexity. The final realization that some habits are really survivals stayed with me.
Ultimately, the decision came down less to the strength of the individual work than to the larger narrative arc created by the selected pieces and how their themes, emotional movement, and endings worked together as one complete reading experience. As much as I admired this piece, it did not fit the final composition closely enough for me to include it.
I know a rejection can feel much larger than a single editorial decision, but that is all this is: one decision made for one particular issue. A pass does not define the value of your work or close the door on future submissions.
I sincerely hope you’ll send me more of your work when submissions reopen.
You’re also welcome to stay connected at authortunitiespress.com, where I share publishing resources, creative opportunities, classes, books, and support for writers.
Thank you again for allowing me to read your work.
Angela Yuriko Smith
Publisher & Editor-in-Chief
Space & Time
That's a very positive and well-mannered pass.
Isn't it? Even if it was all fluff, I prefer it over the wall of silence.
Exactly. The dreaded Wall of Silence. Horrible.