Science Fiction, Writing

Ammona, Part 5

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…

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Science Fiction, Writing

Ammona, Part 3

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…

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Science Fiction, Short Story

Stasis [short story]

By Corissa Haury I feel his fingers grip mine for the last time, before we plunge into dreamless hibernation. Before we crawl into the hard-coated, white shells before us. Others stand around while I hold his hands, while I kiss his lips. His soft kiss, affectionate yet powerful, holds my mouth there, as if time suspends for our kiss the way it will…

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Personal, Short Story

A quiet morning [ short story ]

By Corissa Haury Winter was on its way, but it was not yet present. It still felt like it could have been late autumn, when the cold doesn’t fall below 40 degrees and there is a damp stillness to the foggy air. One still put the seat warmer on when one got in the car, but it wouldn’t be the case…

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Short Story, Writing

Dark Shadows and Storms [short story]

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…

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Short Story

Venom [short story]

  By Corissa Haury I close my eyes and I let the venom burn through my veins. The viper’s juice is soaking into my skin. The little yellow drop of rejuvenation filters through the open wound and rips through my bloodstream. Pain dips into my psyche and into my blood, burning on the surface of the skin, renewing the sharpness of…

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Writing

Writing Hangups

The 5 Major Mind Melts of A Writer As a 20-something woman, I have forged through many preconceived notions about running, marriage, citizenry, tradition, education, history, America, and my own past. I continue to shed unhealthy misconceptions and open my heart to the billions of truths we encounter. The most intimidating obstacle, the longstanding wound on the flesh of my…

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Commentary

Which Thoughts Are Your Own?

by C. E. Poley We often find ourselves struggling to define how we feel both inside our selves and outside. We struggle to find methods that express our thoughts and emotions, such as writing, painting, making music, mathematics, astronomy, and countless other things humans do. It is not easy to express the self with clarity. We are told every day by  American…

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