Membrane
by Michele Corriel
Genre: YA Scifi
Release Date: October 10th 2016
Leap Books
In the multi-verse people may look familiar, but no one is who they seem.
In a small town in Montana, Sophie lives with her quantum physicist mother, and her equally brilliant, but dangerously obsessed, step-father.
Her father disappeared years ago under mysterious circumstances, but Sophie is still haunted by memories of him that seem so real she swears she feels his presence one night as she drifts off to sleep.
Realizing that somehow her missing father is trying to send her a message, Sophie decides to take a big risk.
With her friend, Eli, Sophie must discover what strange experiment her father did and understand the startling impact it has on her world and another, just across the membrane dividing the multi-verse.
Add to Goodreads
Buy Link: Amazon
In a small town in Montana, Sophie lives with her quantum physicist mother, and her equally brilliant, but dangerously obsessed, step-father.
Her father disappeared years ago under mysterious circumstances, but Sophie is still haunted by memories of him that seem so real she swears she feels his presence one night as she drifts off to sleep.
Realizing that somehow her missing father is trying to send her a message, Sophie decides to take a big risk.
With her friend, Eli, Sophie must discover what strange experiment her father did and understand the startling impact it has on her world and another, just across the membrane dividing the multi-verse.
Add to Goodreads
Buy Link: Amazon
Eli folds his lanky body into the passenger seat. I can’t read him at all.
“Wait,” Eli puts his hand on mine as I start to shift into reverse. “Don’t head home. Let’s go out west of town.”
I try moving back into the easy, friendly way we were before my feelings got twisted up. “Where are going?”
“Just drive.”
Sunlight glints across my windshield. The little bit of frost laid down overnight is gone. The stubble fields, short stumpy stands of cut wheat, like a rough blank across the hills, fill my visions. I take one dirt road and then another until I’m not even sure where I am.
We’re nearer to the mountains than when we started but it’s still a ways to the hiking trails that intertwine up and down the rock outcroppings and tree lines.
Eli points to a spot on nothing more than a farm road, two tracks worn down to the dark dirt ruts. The road continues for a while, but I shut off the engine.
“Listen,” Eli says, his voice a rustle.
We both sit, attentive to the quiet. It’s so thick it feels like I have cotton in my ears. And then the sharp, low cry of a hawk, or maybe one of those crazy grackles that gather along telephone lines like forgotten clothespins, breaks into the soft afternoon.
“This is where I go when I need to be alone and just feel all the wide open space out there,”
I follow his gaze and find myself hooked by the ragged outline of the crags, of foothills waiting for the next tectonic lift to get them closer to the sky.
My eyes close, imprinting this moment, this place, on my brain. Then I feel Eli’s presence, the soft in and out of his chest, the touch of his hand in my hair. Gentle. Exploring. I turn my face to where I think he is and open my eyes.
I breathe in his skin, a combination of dry and sweet, like pine needles and cut grass filling my head. He settles his lips over mine and I feel a release, an exhale. As if I’d been waiting my whole life for this exact moment. He stops for a second. I don’t know – maybe he’s thinking this is a mistake. But then he reaches around the back of my neck, near my scar, and I let go, allowing him to pull me closer. This time, when our lips meet, our mouths make maps of each other, marking places to discover.
“Wait,” Eli puts his hand on mine as I start to shift into reverse. “Don’t head home. Let’s go out west of town.”
I try moving back into the easy, friendly way we were before my feelings got twisted up. “Where are going?”
“Just drive.”
Sunlight glints across my windshield. The little bit of frost laid down overnight is gone. The stubble fields, short stumpy stands of cut wheat, like a rough blank across the hills, fill my visions. I take one dirt road and then another until I’m not even sure where I am.
We’re nearer to the mountains than when we started but it’s still a ways to the hiking trails that intertwine up and down the rock outcroppings and tree lines.
Eli points to a spot on nothing more than a farm road, two tracks worn down to the dark dirt ruts. The road continues for a while, but I shut off the engine.
“Listen,” Eli says, his voice a rustle.
We both sit, attentive to the quiet. It’s so thick it feels like I have cotton in my ears. And then the sharp, low cry of a hawk, or maybe one of those crazy grackles that gather along telephone lines like forgotten clothespins, breaks into the soft afternoon.
“This is where I go when I need to be alone and just feel all the wide open space out there,”
I follow his gaze and find myself hooked by the ragged outline of the crags, of foothills waiting for the next tectonic lift to get them closer to the sky.
My eyes close, imprinting this moment, this place, on my brain. Then I feel Eli’s presence, the soft in and out of his chest, the touch of his hand in my hair. Gentle. Exploring. I turn my face to where I think he is and open my eyes.
I breathe in his skin, a combination of dry and sweet, like pine needles and cut grass filling my head. He settles his lips over mine and I feel a release, an exhale. As if I’d been waiting my whole life for this exact moment. He stops for a second. I don’t know – maybe he’s thinking this is a mistake. But then he reaches around the back of my neck, near my scar, and I let go, allowing him to pull me closer. This time, when our lips meet, our mouths make maps of each other, marking places to discover.
Michele Corriel lives and works in Montana's scenic Gallatin Valley, surrounded by seven mountain ranges.
Her work is as varied as the life she's led, from the rock/art venues of New York City to the rural back roads of the Rockies. With her fourth book just out from Leap Books, she's also a prolific freelance magazine writer with articles regionally, nationally and internationally. Michele has received a number of awards for her non-fiction as well as her poetry. She also enjoys teaching, presenting writing workshops and speaking on panels across the country.
When she's not writing you may find her on the golf course, hiking or slogging her way through the snow on what some people like to refer to as "skis." You might also find her in the kitchen creating exciting new flavors or recreating classics.
Author Links:
Website│Goodreads│Twitter│Facebook
Her work is as varied as the life she's led, from the rock/art venues of New York City to the rural back roads of the Rockies. With her fourth book just out from Leap Books, she's also a prolific freelance magazine writer with articles regionally, nationally and internationally. Michele has received a number of awards for her non-fiction as well as her poetry. She also enjoys teaching, presenting writing workshops and speaking on panels across the country.
When she's not writing you may find her on the golf course, hiking or slogging her way through the snow on what some people like to refer to as "skis." You might also find her in the kitchen creating exciting new flavors or recreating classics.
Author Links:
Website│Goodreads│Twitter│Facebook
