Hannah Moore

Joined June 2022

266 stories

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Achievements (30)

Stories (266)

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Clutter. Runner-Up in The Last Flame Challenge.
Sometimes, I dream of a fire. From the depths of my chair, I watch the spark catch on the good, dry kindling Of picture books we read and read and will never read again.
By Hannah Moore20 days ago in Poets
The Summoning of the Tree Spirit. Top Story - December 2025.
Thank God for Christmas. And Hanukkah. And Yule. And probably a myriad of midwinter gatherings of light, food, and family I’ve never even heard of. Winter is tough, and most of us benefit from something to make it more bearable. Personally, I consider myself lucky to live in an era where frozen earth need not equate to a hungry belly, but even though I can gain eight hundred lumens of light at the flick of a switch, how much more pleasure is there in one hundred little five lumen bursts on a string? Or just fifteen in a candle’s steady glow?
By Hannah Moore22 days ago in Humans
Midlife. Runner-Up in Roots and Branches Challenge.
December, 51.54 degrees North, 6.45pm, and a bird is singing in the dark. Somewhere in the three hour deep night another returns the call.
By Hannah Moore27 days ago in Poets
Je Ne Regrette Rien
You're ugly, stunted, dull as well, Tight fisted and meagre hearted. You are in-el-e-gant as hell. ~ There is a yearning you can't quell,
By Hannah Mooreabout a month ago in Poets
The First Person. Winner in The Forgotten Room Challenge. Top Story - December 2025.
She enters the room. The door, she knows, has been here - unpainted wooden panels, plain brass knob, no keyhole - between her bedroom and the bathroom every morning and every evening of every day, and yet she cannot remember if she has ever been inside.
By Hannah Mooreabout a month ago in Fiction
My Name Is Legion. Winner in Harvest of Memory Challenge. Top Story - November 2025.
Do you remember that time when you waded out into the bay Until the sea cooled your ribs and the shore receded? You struck out, from turquoise to deep blue,
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Poets
For Everything There is a Season. Runner-Up in The Sound of First Frost Challenge.
It is my cheek that feels it first, An unlikely, formless harbinger, That spans the gap from nose to ear and eye to mouth,
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Poets
Forsaken . Runner-Up in Letters to the Moon Challenge.
Dear moon, Where were you? Where were you when the darkness came And swallowed up the sun, Tempered the firmament, And left me too cold to fear the night?
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Poets
Revelation 17:4. Winner in Through the Keyhole Challenge.
I wasn’t meaning to spy. But I didn’t want to get into trouble either. I have bad dreams. I went to look for Sister Angelica or Sister Sarah, even though I’m too scared to tell them I’m scared. Sister Angelica says that we who serve God need not be afraid, but I’m not afraid of God. Probably I’m lucky they didn’t find me first. I only looked through the keyhole to know they were there. Only Sister Angelica was there though, and Father O’Connell.
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Fiction
The Power
I, the subject, set out with intent, I move to stay hidden, consider my scent. It, the object, that coveted hide, Will bow to my prowess, I'll not be denied.
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Poets
Jointly and Severally
Alex We like the same things, Lexi and me. Similar things. Or rather, we enjoy the same things, but differently. Take shopping. I love those mounds of produce, skins of dimpled orange, crinkled green, shining red, round shapes, rod shapes, cone shapes, I love to imagine the ripeness of the flesh inside as I squeeze an avocado, or how it’s going to feel to slice into that aubergine, how the smell seeping out when I split open the cells of that leek with my knife is going to kick-start my appetite. I love planning out, in my head, what I’m going to do with all that goodness that I see in front of me. It kind of makes me feel alive. Lexi is the same, except she’s got her eye on the shoppers. Me? I’m dreaming of hearty vegetable stew, but Lexi, she’s more about stewing hearts.
By Hannah Moore3 months ago in Fiction
A Certain Invocation
Whisper, if you dare, I don't believe in spirits. Feel the dark take note.
By Hannah Moore3 months ago in Poets