Amelia Moore
Bio
18-year-old writer who hopes to write stories for a living someday-- failing that, I'd like to become a mermaid.
Stories (20/0)
- Top Story - April 2024
ChessboardTop Story - April 2024
Hello there. Are you afraid? You really shouldn’t be. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s too late for that anyway. Come sit. You must be tired. Your feet are calloused. Your eyes are sun-blind. Your throat is still hoarse, unless I miss my guess. I don’t know why you all scream. There’s really no point.
By Amelia Moore20 days ago in Fiction
- Top Story - March 2024
GumTop Story - March 2024
It was half-past two. Rainy. The policeman came to the door of a house that looked like it should have died years ago. Tin roof, weeds dried and dead under his feet. The windows were painted black and bottles were broken and cigarettes had been stamped out on a porch that growled when he put his weight on it.
By Amelia Moore2 months ago in Fiction
Hell is a frozen forest
He hated the cold. It cut into his throat and eyes, gashed his lips and cheeks and hands with invisible cuts that grew hotter the longer he froze. The snow crackled threateningly underfoot as though he might sink down into it at any moment. His tennis shoes dipped in and out of the white stuff, bright red, every flash of their reappearance making him feel as though his feet were bleeding.
By Amelia Moore2 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - December 2023
- Top Story - October 2023
the priest: explanation and analysis
I just finished a story called 'the priest'. It's probably the most personal piece of fiction I've ever written. Regardless of who reads it, I wanted to explain the story a little bit and how it relates to me. I've never done this-- never analyzed a piece of my own fiction, and it feels silly, but it also feels kind of important? Like talking about myself might deepen any readers' understanding of it. Like writing this will get some things off my chest.
By Amelia Moore8 months ago in Confessions
- Top Story - September 2023
the priestTop Story - September 2023
Stained glass draws patterns onto the floor that dapples the wood and directs the eye to where the pews sit battered, old and scratched, cushions faded by decades of kneeling. Book pages are yellowed and most of them stick together. The age of the church hangs in the air, in the particles of dust, in the sunlight that tentatively makes its way through the large windows.
By Amelia Moore8 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - August 2023
BelladonnaTop Story - August 2023
Once upon a time there were cotton skirts and wooden baskets and singing, lovely girls in the woods and classical activities like reading books for entertainment. The perfect setting for fairy tales, if one didn’t mind a set of rose-colored glasses over things like poverty, and grime, and the deaths from illnesses now so easy to cure.
By Amelia Moore8 months ago in Fiction
The David
It was late, but the gallery was still full of people, women and men alike, in very fine clothes. The women tossed back heads covered in pearls, let long silken dresses tangle around their heels as they walked, and the men, in dark suits, were mainly responsible for holding the arms of their ladies and acting as an accessory to their beauty.
By Amelia Moore10 months ago in Art