Amber Spencer
Bio
I love reading and writing. I especially enjoy all kinds of fiction.
Stories (3/0)
Childhood in a Cup
My Grandma Wendy passed away over ten years ago. I had only been five years old at the time, my mind too young to comprehend the permanence or finality of death. When my parents sat me down to tell me that my grandma wasn't coming to visit ever again all I could feel was confusion. I didn't know how I was supposed to respond. I didn't know what I was supposed to feel or think or do. Now, after all of these years, I understand that my grandma is somewhere within the golden gates of Heaven and won't be around any time soon. I have faith that one day I might see her again and I can just imagine the joy that will be felt on that day, however far away it may seem at this moment. Now, I understand that all I can do is treasure the memories I shared with her. One of my favorite memories is of her making the most amazing, nostalgic drink in the entire world. After all, nothing can beat an ice cold glass of chocolate milk.
By Amber Spencer2 years ago in Families
Hope and Hopeless
There weren't always dragons in the valley, but after the assassination of the queen and the proclamation made by the king declaring energy wielders an enemy to the throne, the valley was turned into a makeshift breeding ground for the dragons to aid in the battle against the insurgent energy wielders. Princess Emma surveyed the land from the mountain overlooking the valley. She found the dragons to be magnificent creatures and longed to have one of her own, but only the energy wielders under her father's control were permitted to own such creatures. Emma looked up at the sky. The light blue sky was beginning to darken, the edges of the horizon becoming tinged with colors of orange, gold, and magenta. She cursed and stumbled down the mountain. She had stayed out too late once again.
By Amber Spencer2 years ago in Fiction
A Lonely Tree
The last tree. That’s what I am. Well, I’m not quite a tree yet, but someday I will be. I’m only four years old, it’ll be another several years before I’m considered mature. Not that it matters. There’s no one around to care. All I can see for miles is flat, dry land. The sun has scorched the Earth, leaving most of it barren and empty. I’ve lost all of my friends and family to the humans. They came through with their machines and their factories and they left nothing behind. Nothing but me, that is. Now I’m here, alone, left to survey the damage the humans have caused. When I go to sleep, I dream they come back for me. I dream every night that they rip up my roots and chop me into hundreds of pieces to be used for various useless purposes.
By Amber Spencer3 years ago in Fiction