Lori A. A.

Joined November 2025

79 stories

Bio

Teacher. Writer. Tech Enthusiast.

I write stories, reflections, and insights from a life lived curiously; sharing the lessons, the chaos, and the light in between.

Achievements (1)

Runner-Up in Nothing But Voices Challenge

Stories (79)

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Human as Things
This poem is about survival after disruption. I am not a book. I am a person whose life stopped in certain places. There are periods of my life where nothing progressed.
By Lori A. A.about 12 hours ago in Poets
The Quiet Infrastructure
They built the city on promises steel-veined, glass-skinned, breathing profit through its mirrored lungs. Every morning the trains swallow us whole,
By Lori A. A.3 days ago in Poets
The Day Before the Sirens
This morning the sun rose without checking the news. It spilled gold over rooftops, touched the river into brightness, pretended nothing was gathering.
By Lori A. A.4 days ago in Poets
Now You’re Gone
This poem is about absence. You are no longer here. There was no dramatic ending. There was no final speech. One day you were part of my routine,
By Lori A. A.4 days ago in Poets
Till Death Do Us… What Did You Mean?
This poem is about marriage and broken promises. You said, “Till death do us part.” I want to know what you meant. ...
By Lori A. A.5 days ago in Poets
A System That Doesn’t Know the Difference Between Guilt and Vulnerability
Joe Arridy did not understand the word execution. He understood trains. He understood ice cream. He understood kindness.
By Lori A. A.5 days ago in Humans
The Infinite Scroll
We do not walk into the internet anymore. We enter a system. It begins even before our feet touch the floor every morning. A hand reaches across the bedsheets. A thumb moves without instruction.
By Lori A. A.6 days ago in Humans
I'm Afraid of Not Being Enough
I am afraid of not being enough. That is the central fact of this poem. I am afraid that my work is not good enough. I am afraid that my effort is not impressive enough.
By Lori A. A.6 days ago in Poets
Cry Me a River
When my father died, the house did not collapse. It continued its small obediences; the refrigerator humming, the clock insisting on seconds,
By Lori A. A.7 days ago in Poets
Oblivion
This poem is about memory loss. The woman in this image is old. Her face shows age. There is a younger version of her in the background, holding a child’s hand.
By Lori A. A.7 days ago in Poets
Lighted
The first spark appeared beneath her heel. Lina almost missed it. She had been walking home the same way she always did—head down, earbuds in, the long gravel path cutting between the dark field and the empty parking lot. It was late, but not dangerously so. The sky held that deep blue that feels suspended, as if night hasn’t fully claimed it yet.
By Lori A. A.8 days ago in Fiction
The Eighth Day
Everyone knows God rested on the seventh day. It is told as completion. Six days of light and firmament, sea and creature, man and woman. Then a divine exhale. A holy pause.
By Lori A. A.8 days ago in Fiction

Lori A. A.

Bio

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Stories (79)

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Human as Things

The Quiet Infrastructure

The Day Before the Sirens

Now You’re Gone

Till Death Do Us… What Did You Mean?

A System That Doesn’t Know the Difference Between Guilt and Vulnerability

The Infinite Scroll

I'm Afraid of Not Being Enough

Cry Me a River

Oblivion

Lighted

The Eighth Day

Achievements (1)