Luccia Moraes

“The Clock Keeps on Ticking in the Neighborhood” by Luccia Moraes

As humans, we have no idea when we will die. When the clock will run out, when it'll all be over. It's a rather depressing ideology, so most people don't spend much time pondering it. The threat--death, of course--begins to loom around a certain age. Sixty-five, let's say. Some have a month left, and some, thirty years. But nonetheless, the clock keeps on ticking. First in the neighborhood, was the old ma...

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“My Grandparent's House” by Luccia Moraes

Submitted to Contest #140

The house was beautiful once. A long time ago. Children ran through it, their laughter echoing through the long, majestic hallways. There was always the smell of the same three recipes she cooked, but the smell was heavenly nonetheless. She probably doesn't remember how to cook them anymore. The first floor was vast. At least one bedroom, a den, kitchen, a dining room with a dining table so grand...

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“Because Of Scarlet Branch” by Luccia Moraes

The Branches--not like stubs on a tree, that was their last name, Branch--had moved from Chicago. Why someone would want to move from a city like Chicago to a repetitive town like this one puzzled Cal. The first few days, it had been a buzz. Small towns, like Cal's, didn't often welcome new residents, but on the rare occurrence, it provided dinner table conversation for at least a week.Cal was at an age--eleven--in which he was beginning to feel like there was something wrong with him. Why didn't he have so many friends like some o...

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“Window to Eternity” by Luccia Moraes

Submitted to Contest #97

Jeremy Adler sat on the floor of his bedroom, leaning on the back of his bed frame, reading whatever book had stumbled into his hands at an astonishingly fast pace. Reading was Jeremy's thing. He would read at such a speed that you couldn't even be sure he was absorbing the words. Getting sick of his reading, he decided that once he finished this chapter, he would take a break. But once he did a...

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“Dunham” by Luccia Moraes

Submitted to Contest #85

1904; Claire's boot sloshed into a puddle as she emerged from the carriage. She awkwardly grabbed her briefcase and notes from the velvet seat and handed a few coins to the driver."Thank you, sir"He grunted and commanded the horse to keep moving. She swallowed, taking a deep breath, observing her surroundings, and marched down the street, the click-clack of her heels matching the accelerating speed of her heartbeat.Suddenly, she heard a whistle behind her and darted her eyes up from the cobblestone beneath her feet.

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“Sandy Owens” by Luccia Moraes

Submitted to Contest #79

As much as I have tried to move on--go to college, get married, have kids--I can't. And it will be fifteen years tomorrow. Fifteen years since my mother left me when I was sixteen. Sixteen! Put me in the foster system, for what? She couldn't bear two more years? I should have been the favorite child but I could never compete with the drugs. Or the alcohol. Or my personal favorite--marrying a new toxic boyfriend twice a...

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“The Ghost” by Luccia Moraes

Submitted to Contest #71

Her stilettos click-clack against the piercing marble floor as she approaches a man in a rather outdated tuxedo."James!" The young woman shouts, "It's national cookie day!""It is ma'am?""And it's my birthday. Isn't it cool that my birthday is on national cookie day?""Yes, ma'am" he awkwardly replies, itching to abort the conversation."Do you know what that means James? It means a party!" She squeals and kisses him on the cheek. "Send these out right now, James, and I swear to God if you order me pigs in ...

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“3 Days Left” by Luccia Moraes

Submitted to Contest #53

3 days left I look to my left over at my alarm clock. I groan. "No one should be up before eight in the morning!" I rub my eyes and reluctantly sit up. I reach for my glasses and struggle to put them on. As my eyes begin to focus and take in another day in this excuse of a town, I notice the several boxes packed up around my room as a lovely reminder that I only have a little while left be...

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