Amos Glade
Bio
Welcome to Pteetneet City & my World of Weird. Here you'll find stories of the bizarre, horror, & magic realism as well as a steaming pile of poetry. Thank you for reading.
For more madness check out my website: https://www.amosglade.com/
Achievements (11)
Stories (178)
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Celia or Mr. Charybdis
“Hey, Odie, they’re going to start singing Celia’s retirement song and then cut the cake. Better get there quick or you won’t get a corner piece. Yummy, frosting,” Beatrice giggled and rubbed her bulging belly; she was thirty-two weeks pregnant.
By Amos Glade12 months ago in Fiction
Dandelion Dreams
When I was about seven years old my family was on a road trip through Yellowstone National Park. As we drove down winding mountain roads, and through desolate prairies, I happened to see a little dandelion (taraxacum) on the side of the road. Something about that dandelion struck me and I told myself to never forget that image of that dandelion. Bright and beautiful in the sun, stretching over the curbside and into the road.
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Photography
I Built My First Robot. Runner-Up in Future Fragments Challenge.
I built my first robot in the basement of Pteetneet Academy when I was seven years old. I had been jealous of the other boys in my class being excused on Grandparent’s Day. I didn’t have any living grandparents and had to stay in a stale classroom learning geometry while they went to the Golden Onion Retirement Center for bingo and strawberry cake.
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Futurism
Lollygagger
The crisp air of the post rain evening stung Benson’s nose as he jogged to the front door of Game Gods Galaxy, the only game store in Pteetneet City that was open late. He was almost late for the night shift, but made it through the doors just before the clock turned over to 10pm. He wriggled out of his thin green jacket and draped it across the stool behind the counter.
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Horror
Events are Developing. Top Story - December 2024.
Arlo blew dust off the top of the old cardboard sneaker box; the orange and black design was scuffed and fading. The dust lit up in the rays of early morning light like a crashing wave of sunburst as it scattered into nothingness. He coughed into a fist.
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Fiction
