Jericho Moros
Bio
I’m a creative writer, storyteller, and a poet. I like to write about what if situation and all around oddball.
Stories (16/0)
Swampy Circus
"Hey look, is that the circus?” Stephanie points to the left. We all look to see a circus next to some swampy waters. Pete, who was driving, seemed excited. Stephanie kept saying on how we should check it out. Only Rose and I were a bit skeptical.
By Jericho Moros7 months ago in Fiction
It's a family thing
“Are we almost there yet?” He stares out the window, watching the trees pass. Most of the trees looked the same. The only thing that stood out was that the further they drove. The trees started to wither and look dead. As a fire had taken place. The branches that were full of green leaves slowly started to become nothing but twigs.
By Jericho Moros7 months ago in Fiction
The Garden
Cindy roams the yard throwing her rubber ball against the wall. The rubber ball bounces louder and further with each throw. She hears a buzzing in the air and turns towards her mother's garden. She catches the rubber ball and tosses it aside so she can go over and look at the flowers.
By Jericho Moros10 months ago in Fiction
The Baker
It was fall when Henry and I opened our first bakery. It wasn’t much at first, but it was enough. We weren’t expecting to be rich, or to be famous. We just wanted to have a place to call home. In the coming months it was hard, we didn’t know what to expect, but Henry didn’t mind. He enjoyed the challenge of unfamiliar territory. Whether it was people that entered, or the season constantly changing. He took up the challenge, so the little shop could be called home.
By Jericho Moros10 months ago in Fiction
The Butcher
“It’s 1 o'clock only eleven hours before the festival.” George looks down at the meat he was cutting. He lifts his left eye brow and smirks while shaking his head. He chuckles thinking about tomorrow. He slams his cleaver onto the board and looks up at the hooks. He sighs and looks back down at the slab of meat he was cutting. The slab was dripping blood on the stained wood board. The butcher sticks his hairy hand into his dirty coat and takes out a handkerchief. He wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Man it’s hot back here.”
By Jericho Moros10 months ago in Fiction
The Fog
It was about twenty years ago when my father bought some land. The previous owner seemed eager to sell. His price was next to nothing. While my mother and I questioned the pricing, my father was happy to own those acres of land for cheap. The previous owner left with a smile. We almost thought he was gonna jump and tap his boots. This seemed rather concerning, but my mother, although concerned, was happy that my father was happy.
By Jericho Moros10 months ago in Fiction
Circuit Board Arena
The Arena buzzes to life as the heat lamp turns on and marks the brutal dawn over the jagged ruins of a small town. The sudden change from the black dead night to an orange haze day makes Howard’s eyes water. He blinks as he finds cover with his partner in the ruins of a bank lobby. The cool shivers he felt melt quickly as the heat picks up.
By Jericho Moros11 months ago in Fiction
What's his name?
Today’s a cold day, but somehow I feel warm. I sit and write about anything. Hoping it distracts me enough. I only hope the rest of today is more productive. I sigh “Damn” Writers block, I lean back in my chair. I look around the room to notice the walls around me peeling away. “Are they changing color?” I grumble. “Mhm must be a cheap color.” I lean forward only to notice my desk is messy. I begin cleaning, “Maybe this will help me with my writer’s block.”
By Jericho Moros11 months ago in Fiction
