The Ticket by Alice Ruvane ’86

Alice Ruvane ’86 makes her way in the world as a promotional writer. She served on the Editorial Board of The Lyon Review during its inception and her first published personal essay, Creating a Life appeared in The Lyon Review in May 2011. Alice’s other works can be found online and in a yellowing copy of the New York Times Magazine (letter to the Editor and www.poetsagainstthewar.org, Truth & Justice.) Alice lives in Maine where she delights in spoiling her dog and her husband rotten (in that order). When she’s not spending time outdoors, on her yoga mat, on stage or with friends, she can be found at her desk writing. It’s no wonder she’s still at work on her first novel.

I didn’t tell my boy where we were headed the morning I threw his duffle bag in the way back and drove him to rehab. I lied. I waved the plane ticket I’d bought to Canada in front of his dazed eyes, “Maybe your father can straighten you out.” I’d had enough. Even if my boy hadn’t reached his “bottom,” I’d sure reached mine.

I packed his things the night before. Four pairs of tube socks, two pairs of jeans, an assortment of T-shirts and a sweatshirt. It wasn’t much, but it was clean. I picked the clothes off his floor and did the washing, drying and folding. He wasn’t home, but that wasn’t news. For the last two years he only came home to sleep, or really, to sleep it off.

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Novel Excerpt: Dead Evil by Candace Hughes ’86

Candice M. Hughes, award-winning poet and essayist, is former Poetry Editor for the MHC literary journal. She has authored a wide variety of creative and nonfiction works. Her debut technothriller was Death on a Thin Horse. Her newest novel is Dead Evil, a paranormal thriller with an intriguing romance, from which an excerpt appears below. She is published in The Allegheny Review, The Lyon Review, and Pegasus among others. She is a recipient of the Ida F. Snell Poetry Prize and a Pen Works Honorable Mention for Creative Nonfiction. Other books include the Small Business Rocket Fuel nonfiction series. Candice is founder of a health game company developing games for teens with ADHD, a biotech consultant and professional medical writer. She holds a PhD in Anatomy and Neurobiology and an MBA in general business management with a focus on strategy and technology innovation.

CandiceMHughes_DeadEvil_800pxThickening smoke and ash cut visibility from twilight to moonless black night as sure as a Nor’easter rolling in from the Atlantic. Detective Gabe Bennett’s radio crackled a three alarm-fire alert a quarter mile from his location. He knew the place well. It was eight houses down from his own. He edged his Ford pick-up truck to the curb as a Ferrara tanker ripped past, racing to his neighbor Rebecca Howland’s flame-ravaged colonial. His boss’ phone was sure to light up what with Rebecca being one of Plymouth, Massachusetts’ last blue bloods, Mayflower pedigree and America’s royalty.

He pulled back onto the road, navigating through the chaos of flashing lights, cruisers and tankers. He’d left work hoping for an early night, but work had found him after all.

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Windigo by Leslie Le Mon ’90


Leslie Le Mon is an author and consultant.  A graduate of Mount Holyoke College, Leslie lives in Los Angeles where she is a member of the Book Publicists of Southern California. Her books include Cold Dark Harbor and Other Tales of Ghosts and Monsters, the collection from which “Windigo” appears, the YA fantasy series Sircus of Impossible Magicks, and the unauthorized Disneyland Book of Secrets 2013. Visit www.leslielemonauthor.com for more.

Yarick, Maine

Ten years ago, in 1955, my husband and I lived in a cold water walk-up in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  It was at the top of an old house on the waterfront, circa 1700, which sounds picturesque, but it just means the building was falling down around our ears, that we froze in the winter, and broiled in the summer, and that the smell of salt and fish and tar marinated our three small rooms year-round.

Ernest had graduated from Bowdoin with a degree in literature.  He didn’t want to teach; he didn’t want to pursue a graduate degree, and he didn’t want to work in advertising.  He wanted to write the great American novel–not a great American novel, but The Great American Novel. That meant he pounded on an old Corona typewriter all day and night, and sent queries to the big literary houses in Boston, New York, London, and Paris.

Ernest was very earnest, and so was his novel, but no one on either side of the Atlantic was interested. Polite rejection after polite rejection landed in our mailbox. Worse, they were boiler plate rejections–absolutely impersonal.

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