John Moore
Bio
Engineer who wants to go pro at writing. Lover of all things sci-fi and fantasy.
Catholic trying to balance faith and reason in my work and build something beautiful along the way.
Achievements (1)
Stories (7/0)
Voidborn
No one can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. By ‘they,’ I refer to that pampered segment of humanity who keep their feet firmly rooted to the homeworlds. Earth, Mars, even Venus, it’s all the same once you go down the gravity well. Although strictly speaking, those planetborn humans would be correct. But out here in the dark, those of us in the clans know differently. We all have radios, and I have heard many screams across the cold vacuum of space. That’s where the money is made.
By John Moore5 days ago in Futurism
Beyond the Sun's Light
No one can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. By ‘they,’ I refer to that segment of humanity whose ancestors never ventured into the void. They’re not wrong, strictly speaking. A man without his suit, screaming into the void will be dead silent, special emphasis on dead. But a man in his suit still has a radio, and I have heard many screams across the cold vacuum of space. I fear my voice may soon join that unfortunate chorus of souls. Should the most likely outcome occur, let this record bear testimony to the events on this godforsaken ship. My name is Jan Sobra of Clan Sama, and maybe I can spare another soul from that silent scream into the night.
By John Moore5 days ago in Futurism
Terminus Rail
The rhythmic clack clack clack broke through Mark’s dreamless sleep and roused him with a start. He didn’t remember dozing off in his seat; the previous night must have taken more out of him than he remembered, what little he could remember after leaving the bar. The clack clack clack continued to rattle around him as he gradually broke through the early morning fog of sleepiness. He was glad to have splurged on the upgraded ergonomic desk chair for his home office. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d pass out in the chair after a night out on the town.
By John Moore14 days ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in Campfire Ghost Story Challenge
The Lonely CabinRunner-Up in Campfire Ghost Story Challenge
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Jack had hiked for so long that all thoughts of danger were pushed from his mind. Three months on the Appalachian Trail was hard enough on the body, but no one ever talked about the toll it took on the spirit. The human soul wasn’t meant to be alone for so long. As darkness descended and the creatures began their nightly songs, the candle beckoned him in like an old friend with the promises of hearth and home. Both were much needed after a week of cold rain and three months spent sleeping on the hard ground. Not to mention the thought of some company.
By John Moore2 months ago in Horror
The Game of My Life
I dug my cleat into the dirt on the mound and looked at my catcher for the sign. There were two outs and the tying run was on second in the tenth inning. The tenth inning of a high school game. We’d already played an extra half game of this district playoff on a hot, muggy summer night in Memphis. My team had no business being in this game, let alone being ahead with a chance to win. It was the end of a tumultuous senior year. Our team had struggled, practices and games ended up in us getting mercilessly berated by our head coach, and morale was generally low.
By John Moore2 months ago in Families
The Dark Glen
Doran returned to the glen just as the Maiden broke through the clouds. The moon’s light bathed the clearing in indigo bringing night glories into full bloom. Even in his desperation, a small part of his mind marveled at the beauty of the clearing which was aglow in fluorescent shades of violet. He hoped he’d been quick enough in finding the hartstongue leaves. If Murai was still alive, they would stop the bleeding.
By John Moore2 months ago in Horror
The Fall of Valongard
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At least that’s what the village elders claimed. The old men couldn’t say when the dragons had first made their way south to the verdant valley. All they could say for sure was the dragons arrived in a time far beyond living memory. The people of the Valley called it Kidron after their name for the hot springs that bubbled up from the ground, warming and nourishing the valley floor. The Valley dug long furrows, deep and green, on the surface of the continent which was otherwise nothing more than drab desert. Kidron wound its way for hundreds of leagues, following the hot spring rivulets. The great canyon walls rose miles above the Valley floor, touching the sky in rocky crenellations. It was along these outcroppings that their ancestors first saw the dragons.
By John Moore2 months ago in Fiction
