Cory Wright-Maley
Bio
In the early stages of becoming a writer. I am learning new things from really excellent writers all the time, and slowly trying to get better myself. As I tinker, I hope you'll offer feedback and enjoy what I put out there.
Achievements (1)
Stories (7)
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Trickle Them Down, But Not Out. Top Story - February 2026.
The thing about smart people is that they should know better, but alas, intelligence is not the same as wisdom. Not only do the mistakes of experts too short on vision—when they are not corrected—have the potential to do great and far-reaching damage, but they also undermine public confidence in the very notion of expertise. This is particularly so when expertise is wielded in defence of the rich and powerful as a cudgel against those laid low. As an academic, this lack of faith in “so-called experts” is painful to see as it plays out in the spread of dis-/misinformation, conspiracy theories, and anti-intellectualism writ large. But it is also an understandable impulse given the catastrophic failure of an economic ideology pushed by certain economic experts. Supply-side economics has shaped a broken system for the last half-century and has arguably done more to undermine the fabric of the American Dream than any policy framework of the past century.
By Cory Wright-Maleya day ago in Humans
Frozen in Silence. Runner-Up in The Ritual of Winter Challenge.
I am blessed to live near one of the largest urban parks in Canada, and even more so because the walk across Fish Creek Park is my commute. Carved by the retreat of ancient glaciers, the river valley was once home to innumerable bison—the Blackfoot peoples for whom this this land is ancestral call them iiníí. It is not difficult to see their ghosts emerge in the icy fog. I imagine them trampling the snowy grasslands on the far side of the frozen creek. On most days, the valley is alive with the sounds and activity of its inhabitants. Birdsong fills the air. The movement of deer and coyotes carry the crunch of crusty snow into the distance. Trees, partially chewed by beavers, sway and creak as if deciding whether to fall. But there are some days in the middle of winter when all is so still and quiet, you can hear the thrum of your pulse in your ears.
By Cory Wright-Maley2 months ago in Humans
The Wedding Party
There’s a fine line between solitude and loneliness. This place is one of solitude for me. It’s silent except for the crows who keep watch over it and the sparrows that dart about the honeysuckle hedging. It doesn’t belong here, the honeysuckle. It was originally from somewhere in East Asia, I’m going to guess China. You can hardly go wrong guessing China because it’s the biggest country, unless you count Russia, which I don’t. But I digress, which is of course my luxury to do. There’s no one to hurry me. Now, where was I? Oh, the honeysuckle.
By Cory Wright-Maley5 years ago in Fiction
The Legend of El Segador
“Just one more! Please!” they begged. “It’s not that late, and we’re not tired!” I looked at their expectant, adolescent faces illuminated by the light of the campfire. The last rays of the sun had finally disappeared behind the granite sentinels standing to the West of us. The long shadows of pines and birches retreating, too, from the glow of the fire. “Okay, just one more,” I relented.
By Cory Wright-Maley5 years ago in Fiction
The Marigold Eater
Sunset on the boulevard of dreams is hardly a way to describe the squalor that is this stretch of my walk to work from my neighborhood home to the glass and steel monument to many successful acquisions. Partially emptied paint cans tipped on their sides drip their contents into what was once a small stream that has long dried up. An assortment of detritus built up over years of neglect. I recognize the tattered remnants of fast food containers that were once styrofome clamshells; ancient debris.
By Cory Wright-Maley5 years ago in Fiction
