Laurel Mora
Bio
Playwriting major looking to keep her creative writing skills sharp
Stories (5/0)
Shark Tooth
“Alana…” “Alana.” “Alana!” “Wake up!” Alana Aguero snapped back into consciousness. Dark blue engulfed her vision. Only the off-white of her shark tooth necklace stood out. As the haze started to clear out of her head, she noticed something peculiar about the tooth: it was glowing. The glow softly pulsed like a heartbeat. Not only did it pulse with light, it also floated with the tip of the tooth pointing skyward.
By Laurel Mora3 years ago in Horror
The Bloody Bakery
Minerva “Minnie” Tuller always prided herself on taking good care of her customers. At least she would, if her assistant showed up. Dominic, her assistant, was prone to flights of fancy and getting easily distracted. No matter. She single handedly ran the Bloody Bakery for years before she hired Dominic. She could run this business in her sleep.
By Laurel Mora3 years ago in Fiction
Curiosity Killed the Kat
Twelve year old Katherine Moore drew patterns in the dirt while she patiently waited for the first responders to do their job. The scenery outside the barn was serene in comparison to the commotion in the house. The chill of the summer night air wrapped around her like a blanket that they give to victims on those crime shows her Momma would sometimes watch. Kat never imagined that she would ever be in a situation similar to those shows, yet here she was. She imagined getting interviewed by the police would be scarier, but it was more… draining than anything else. A voice interrupted her sea of thoughts.
By Laurel Mora3 years ago in Horror
2032
May 29th, 2032 The summer hasn’t even officially started, yet the heat is already unbearable. It certainly doesn’t help that we’re in the middle of a drought. Even worse, meteorologists are predicting that this is going to be the hottest summer on record for the third year in a row.
By Laurel Mora3 years ago in Fiction
Folklore & Family
The cold was a welcome distraction from my current miserable state. Although, I regretted not grabbing a warmer jacket. I tugged it closer as another gust of wind blew. I rubbed my hands together and blew hot air onto them. Not bringing gloves was another oversight. My already sensitive skin would pay for it come morning.
By Laurel Mora3 years ago in Horror