Brian Amonette
Bio
From chef to network engineer to shut in writer wanabee. Seems to be a natural progression.
Husband, father, grandfather; the support chain is long and varied with years of diverse experience and gaming knowledge.
Stories (16)
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Discovery
I don’t wear makeup, or revealing clothing with this name, in fact each name has her own rules that I follow religiously. When I’m little Liza Monay, I hunch slightly to make my 1.7-meter frame even shorter, and I wear frumpy, dumpy clothes that make me look heaver than my 53 kilos. As I prepare to be the beautiful !Zozs!, all of that changes. Gone are the dull earth tone clothing, in favor of bright shiny fabric. I change the hair on my head for a neon-green colored, sculpted spike set. !Zozs! is vibrant and alive unlike Liza. Bright glittery makeup showcases my fine bone structure, more glitter lightly covers my mostly naked flesh, enhancing the small bits that are not showing, not out of modesty, but to cause a sense of mystery, and a desire in the weak, to see what is hidden. Years of parkour and second story work, done with different names of course, have honed and sculpted my body into the weapon it is today. The makeup has the second function of softening my hard flesh, to make it seem less dangerous. We wouldn’t want to frighten my prey away would we. The final touch, the locket given to her by her mother years past, now attached to a neon-green choker, bringing attention to her long slender neck. !Zozs! is so small, and with her birdlike voice, everyone desires her, none could fear her, done, and perfect.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
Treasure
She had been watching the farm for several days. One of many in the area, this one seemed still untouched. The nearest government was days away, and no other people nearby. The other farms were part of the old agri-businesses of the teens and twenties, but this one was an old family farm. There were treasures to be found here.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
Utopia
The sun shone down upon woman and field, warming and revealing the glowing hint of life in both. The summer heat was tempered by humidity hazing the air, and restrained by fluffy clouds above. As she walked along vibrant green fields, one hand rested upon the gentle swell of her belly. She stooped and gathered a handful of dirt. Running her hand through, moist, dark-brown, loamy soil full of life and potential. As her soft hands sifted the soil, it fell away in the mild wind leaving ladybugs, and worms that made it so vital, and one curiosity that caught her eye. She turned the object in her hands revealing a lone penny. Old and tarnished with verdigris, it dated from 1903. She turned her gentle brown eyes to the horizon as he stood. Nearly as far as she could see, were verdant green waves, as different crops were planted in organized rows. In the distance tractors moved through picking summer grains and vegetables to send to distant places, Chicago, and Denver two likely shipping locations. She turned and continued walking back toward her distant home. The beautiful old-style farmhouse painted in vibrant colors, lovingly maintained. Her regular path, walked often, was free from obstacles, as with the new life swelling inside her it became more difficult to walk every day. Her nose crinkled with her odd enigmatic smile, as she remembered her husband teasing her for waddling along the path.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
Dust
The sun shone down upon man and field, burning and revealing parched crags in both. The summer heat was unrestrained by wispy clouds, nor tempered by humid haze. As he walked along dead and dusty fields, one hand massaged the other, as the twisting of age caught up to him. He stooped and gathered a handful of dirt. Running his hand through, dry silty-brown, crumbled earth more like sand than topsoil. As his experienced hands rubbed the dirt, it blew away in the mild wind leaving nothing but desiccated insects, as even they need water to live. He examined the dead insects, and the dry crumbled earth, no life left in the soil any longer. He turned his sharp blue eyes to the horizon as he stood. Huge clouds of dust were blowing west in the clear blue sky, taking the topsoil that made this the breadbasket of the world and sending it to smother distant lands, not stopping until it hit the front range, or Denver perhaps. He turned and continued walking back toward his distant home. The striking old-style farmhouse painted in fading colors, had seen better days. His path, not walked frequently, was strewn with debris. He had to pay close attention as he walked, with the new pains and swelling in all his joints it became more difficult to walk every day. His eyes squinted with remembered pain, as he recalled his wife teasing him for being too serious, walking this way often.
By Brian Amonette5 years ago in Fiction
