Dear friends and readers, Throughout my adult life, I have found joy in volunteering for different nonprofits. This has included giving tours of Portland, Maine’s oldest cemetery, being a foster cat mom, being a trainwoman on the Portland Narrow Gauge Railroad, working at the library bookstore, and teaching computers to seniors. There is something satisfying to me in spending my…
National Novel Writing Month was not easy for me this year, but somehow I scraped past 50,000 words on November 29th, the day before it was all “over.” Of course, it’s not really over for me, and it won’t be this time for a while. This new novel I’m working on, Red Planet, feels different from the others that I’ve worked…
Bunk Room 942 wasn’t quiet for long. Ammona scrolled through a media feed on her PTD while she lay on her back, left arm behind her head. She tried hard not to listen to the conversation Hian and Barrett were having, but it wasn’t easy. “So, where you from?” Barrett inquired, while he attempted to play Tetris with his belongings…
“State your name. Last name first, please.” A computer voice said. It carried the note of a tenor, and spoke in a British accent. “King, Ammona.” The young woman watched the screen calculate for a moment to find her in the registry of accepted students. Its background was an image of the Sierra Nevada mountains in western America. The mountains…
Ammona knew she had to contain her excitement. Otherwise, she might scream, dance, or freak out, and then the STSA would probably suspect her of something other than travel. So she stood in line like any good citizen would, and waited for someone to tell her to step through the weapons detector. With her boots and bag off and in…
“Come on, let’s go.” Ammona picked up her travel bag. Drea munched on a bag of chips. She said nothing. “Come on.” Ammona crossed the hall, and stood in front of her. “I have to go or I’ll miss the flight.” Her roommate slouched over the arm of their couch in the common room, downing comfort food. “I kind of…
It is the end of a long work day at the cafe. Serving everyone their triple-shot-sugar-free-vanilla-light-foam latte for eight hours a day, forty hours a week, felt like a drag after three years of repetitive words and motions. She arrives at her apartment door and punches in the unlock code on the panel. “Please state your name.” The little electronic screen speaks in an automated…
By Corissa Haury Yesterday morning my husband and I got out of bed at 7:15am. We were going to hunt for a house, a difficult task for any person. When it is cold, it is hard to rise from your warm cocoon of blankets. Those who live in the North have a formidable drive before them the day after a heavy snow. The roads…
By Corissa Haury She stood at the crossroads, where there were four stop signs. It was freezing. Her nose was numb. There were tiny frozen pieces of snow, ice, and her own frosty breath that framed her hood, closed as tight as she could manage without obscuring her vision. The sky was gray, flat. There was no active snow but for…
By Corissa Haury Writing a novel is not easy. Whether you put pen to paper, type on a typewriter, or use a tablet with a keyboard like me, you still have to do something hard. You have to write. You have to write a lot, too. 50,000 words in one month is no joke. The daily minimum to reach 50k is 1667 words,…
By Corissa Haury I can see the rectangular ship descending from just above the platform outside the entrance to the port. Its gleaming silver coat reflects some of the Sun’s luminescent, uncontrolled rays beaming through our solar system. The tainted glass on the ship’s bow indicates the cockpit. Its thrusters are on low. This is a class D civilian and cargo…
By Corissa Haury I know I am spoiled, but I can’t help thinking how much faster the line could be if people would move and make a decision about their stupid morning coffee. I remember how long the lines were on Earth… You’d need a full 45 minutes just to get up there and get a coffee, but it was so expensive to buy…
By Corissa Haury “Mom?” I call throughout the house. She doesn’t answer the usual, “I’m home!” I call out when I return from my best friend’s house in the evening. Over the water, the sun is setting, and I knew she would be cooking up dinner. That is, she usually is cooking up dinner around this time. I look at my watch. 5:57. Where…
by Corissa Haury My sister and I wander amongst the veterans’ graves on a rainy day in May. The cemetery is bigger than I had originally thought; so much so that we will get lost on the way out, but I don’t know it yet. We are making a sort of pilgrimage towards a World War II monument. We won’t see it is…
By Corissa Haury Two perceptions divulged in a wood: A train-track running in both directions, A tunnel in darkness thick as smoke. Two perceptions divulged in a wood: A pill-drenched mind on introspections, A hollow echo when deep heart spoke. / Two perceptions divulged in a wood: A call to love what has come before; A query to look ahead through philos. Two perceptions divulged in a…