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 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 “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 “Yes,” She says casually, eating her french toast doused in real American maple syrup and French butter, while both those continents slowly rotate by in the window behind her. My leg touches Alec’s, feeling the bump of his larger leg against my smaller one. It feels comforting, unlike what Maureen is saying while she gnaws on her…