Molly E. Hamilton
Stories (8/0)
Yalena's Heir
The shrill cry of a small human child echoed through the branches again. Her scent whispered through the leaves in the wind. Yalena glanced down as she flew above it all. Smells were fleeting for dragons in flight. Considering her wingspan, 70 feet (large for an adult female), she covered areas quickly. But it was that cry the pricked her ears. Something about that slip of a scent made Yalena’s fire restrict, meaning it built in her chest, like a bomb waiting and pulsing. Dragons gathered their fire in this way when fearful or angry. For Yalena, she felt a mixture of both.
By Molly E. Hamilton2 years ago in Fiction
Hi, I'm a Writing Tutor
Yes, Canine Autism is a thing. It's still getting researched. Some vets accept it; others are more skeptical. The behaviorists and professionals I sought out in desperation agreed that my dog is, indeed, autistic. Some people laugh in my face; others' facial features are washed with understanding. A few people even said, "I think my dog has it too." Let me tell you, having an autistic dog isn't easy, and working from home with him makes things even more complicated.
By Molly E. Hamilton3 years ago in Petlife
The Charging Bull
The bull crashes down the hallway of my house, sending my glass swan figurines off their shelves and to the ground in trampled pieces. It smashes through the wall— launching white plaster and dust into the air. Through the white haze, it pierces me with its long, curling horns; that’s when I wake up.
By Molly E. Hamilton3 years ago in Fiction
When Jerry Scanned Liza’s Barcode
Jerry sees Liza walking down the street. He observes her frilly dress, with the bouncing lace, and her light pink fingernails, which delicately caress her purse strap. She has a wisp of a smile as she squints her eyes in the sparkling sunlight. Her eyes look hazel from his perspective, and they are surrounded by a rich hedge of long lashes. Neatly embedded in the center of her forehead is a camera lens. She makes an autonomous statement by drawing mandala inspired flower around it.
By Molly E. Hamilton3 years ago in Fiction
Vinny's Locket
It was the creeping that roused Charlotte awake. The desperate creeping that was really a dragging, a low and pitiful struggle of something nearly slithering on the ground. She heard futile attempts of survival before— the scraping sound dragging limbs make as they scuff across concrete or slide through the leaves. Two and a half years since the shut-down, and already nature laid siege to suburbia. It was the end times according to some, and the broken people cried tears into their graves while the rest snapped into monsters.
By Molly E. Hamilton3 years ago in Fiction