LENORA QUARTO
Bio
The stories need to get out of my brain.
Stories (3)
Filter by community
A Barn Named Crooked
It sits beyond the fields, huddled among the conifers, its mossy roof barely visible from her bedroom window. The place they say is haunted because horrible things happen there. Her brothers love to torment her with stories of kids going missing only to be found in this place and no longer breathing. When they truly want to scare her, they talk of limbs missing and faces unrecognizable. When they want to control her, they say it’s only the girls who go missing. What they don’t know, what they’ll never know, is that she can’t be controlled. Not by another person.
By LENORA QUARTO5 years ago in Fiction
Heart Strikes Ten
My feet firmly situated where Kelsa left me, I took in my surroundings. The small room was bathed in flaxen sunlight, as if filtered by a massive tree. The small sky lamps allowed the light in, but not the heat. The slight breeze from the wall aerators cooled my damp skin. Not like the aerators in our muddy huts, when they functioned properly. Those only blew the insulting scorched air. I still couldn’t shift my stunned limbs. Eyes drifting to a corner, a raised pallet nestled between the wall and a table holding a lantern and a small quarto. It was a portrait of comfort. Following the wall beyond the table, I see an opening leading to another area.
By LENORA QUARTO5 years ago in Fiction
Heart Strikes Ten
Legend says that when the heart strikes ten, it will open again. I wish I believed in legends. I want to believe in legends. Yet time beyond time, they fail me. I’ve given up my former conviction that a legend, either person or tale, will end this dread. Ancient legend said that when the heart strikes three, we will all be free. And yet with each turn of our world, the world in which we were free before the melt, we cannot talk with whom we wish. We cannot walk where we wish. We cannot admire another or another’s possessions. We cannot learn. We cannot love. For love is a freedom that ends our breath.
By LENORA QUARTO5 years ago in Fiction
