![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/c_fill,f_jpg,fl_progressive,h_302,q_auto,w_1512/604a38d9d31ba2001c1b14f5.jpg)
J. Otis Haas
Bio
Space Case
Achievements (9)
Stories (70/0)
Night Shift at the Fauxfillment Center. Runner-Up in the Under a Spell Challenge. Top Story - October 2023.
“Break the belts, grind the gears, this is what corporate fears. Stop the line for a time, through our will by our design.” It was well past midnight and the candles had burned low when the women assembled in Donna’s living room finished chanting and gazed down collectively at the sheet of paper on the floor. Though the presence that had arrived during the ritual did not remain once the lights were turned on, they all agreed that they felt a sense of fulfillment. Anna pointed out the irony as she poured herself another margarita.
By J. Otis Haas9 months ago in Fiction
Fried Zucchini and a Sense of Normalcy . Second Place in Nourished Challenge. Content Warning.
“Don’t talk to Ulf,” I heard someone say as I arrived on the job site, “He was doing shots of NyQuil at the bar last night, and he’s in a bad mood.” I had heard of Ulf through coworkers, who played him up like some kind of indestructible gutter punk, the sort who could be found in cities in the 90’s, but which were a dying breed by that spring day in 2002. Ulf was in New York by way of the circus, by way of south Boston for Fashion Week.
By J. Otis Haas9 months ago in Feast
The Silent Solstice
A vow of silence was the defining characteristic of the group known as The Silent Solstice, and compliance was strictly enforced among the members Jack was sitting in a leather chair that squeaked noticeably as he braced himself by the armrests and looked around the room, which had once been the Abbot’s office, high up on the fourth floor of the former monastery. The space was now the inner sanctum of the Mother Superior of The Silent Solstice. Jack could still see the outline where a crucifix had once hung on the sunlight-bleached wall. The desk in front of him was cluttered with papers and featured a telephone with a greasy handset to the side. These features contrasted with the organization Jack had become accustomed to during his time with the cult.
By J. Otis Haas10 months ago in Fiction
Chapter 13 of “The Moth & the Lighthouse: a Memoir”
I know this memoir has been a sad story so far, and you probably don’t like the protagonist very much, but I beg you to press on, Dear Reader. The monstrous cretin inhabiting these pages is about to undergo a transformation. Based on what you know so far, it’s hard to believe that anything could penetrate the shell of miserable, desperate, entitled arrogance he is encased in, I know. However, he is about to have some experiences that evidence if not a higher power, at least a sense of greater purpose, and emerge from the chrysalis a butterf…well, at least a moth, but you may find the changes as astounding as he did.
By J. Otis Haas10 months ago in Chapters
What I Found in a Bookstore
In reflecting on the differences in my life after curing decades of major depression, I look for concrete evidence of real change. In early 2020 I entered a bookstore. While checking out, I saw a flier advertising a writing group that met monthly in the shop after hours. The old me would have wanted to attend, but would certainly have made up excuses and justifications not to, underpinned by low self-esteem and feelings of inadequacy. It would have been just another missed opportunity tossed on the pile of regrets, but the new me took down the details and I promised myself I’d attend the next session.
By J. Otis Haas11 months ago in Writers
Chapter 1 of “Gravel”
Mark was one of those guys who floated through life buoyed by his natural charm and likability. With bleach-blonde hair and steroid-swollen biceps, the overwhelming impression he gave was that of a gym-bro surfer, despite hailing from some small town in north Jersey. Jack had met him after a gig at one of those stately old Midtown hotels that had been the center of the socialite scene a century before, but whose cramped rooms were now full of tourists who hadn’t read the reviews and whose grand ballroom mostly hosted corporate events. They were both freelance cater-waiters who spent their time rushing around the ballroom during fundraising galas and company dinners. The venue kept the lights low to hide the peeling paint and water stains on the ceiling, but peering into the shadows long enough revealed that the hotel’s best days were long behind it.
By J. Otis Haas11 months ago in Fiction
On Forgetting the Lessons of The Hobbit
As part of a nationwide literacy campaign, a pledge was passed out when I was in fifth-grade. It was the mid-eighties and each student was asked to sign an agreement promising to abstain from television for a month in an effort to encourage them to read. I was the only one who refused. My first memory is of being carried into a movie theater, and television provided a similar fix. I liked the after-school cartoons and the slate of classic 70’s shows that ran after them, followed by the “Big Movie at 8,” which, even then, I could feel filling the voids of my mind like water into a glass of rocks. I wasn’t going to give that up without a fight. Later in life, applying to film school, I recognized that these nightly cinematic forays were an education unto themselves, and those films sit on a shelf in my head next to the books I’ve read.
By J. Otis Haas11 months ago in BookClub
50 Word Critique of Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991)
Featuring a mother’s enduring love and enemy turned surrogate father, this coming-of-age tale serves as a stark warning about technological hubris that we can no longer ignore. Unprecedented action and cutting-edge special effects underpin the message that there is NO FATE and we can only save ourselves.
By J. Otis Haas11 months ago in Critique
The Three Little Pyggs . Second Place in Tales Retold Challenge. Top Story - August 2023.
Albert Pygg sighed and stroked the hairs on his chin as he closed his laptop. The page for the online group for residents of the Wolff Estates housing development to air their grievances about the Homeowners Association had been taken down. Evidently Mr. Wolff’s sister-in-law’s nanny had infiltrated the group, achieved moderator status, and deleted the whole thing. Albert saw that the groups for Wolff Acres, Wolff Park, and Wolfftown had also disappeared. He now felt even more terrible that he had convinced both of his brothers to move into the subdivision.
By J. Otis Haas12 months ago in Fiction
Why Dogs Stick Their Heads Out Car Windows
Long, long ago, when the planet was old, but life was new, a creature emerged from the shallows of the primordial sea and crawled up onto a pebbly beach. It was a fishy thing, but it was not a fish, it was something that had never existed before in this part of the universe. Holding its head in the air it could detect a smoky tang on the wind, which was unlike anything it had perceived before. It did not know what fire was, and so it was more curious than afraid, but holding itself up on its finny feet was taxing, and so it did not linger long on the shore. As it slipped back beneath the water it thought it heard a voice whisper “Come back,” but, too exhausted to comply, the creature returned to its den among some submerged boulders.
By J. Otis Haas12 months ago in Fiction
Subscribe to my stories
Show your support and receive all my stories in your feed.
Send me a tip
Show your support with a small one-off tip.