Lori A. A.

Joined November 2025

112 stories

Bio

Writer, Teacher exploring identity, human behavior, and life between cultures.

Achievements (1)

Runner-Up in Nothing But Voices Challenge

Stories (112)

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Now You’re Gone
You are no longer here. There was no dramatic ending. There was no final speech. One day you were part of my routine, and now you are not.
By Lori A. A.23 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.24 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.24 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.25 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.26 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.26 days ago in Poets
Oblivion
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.27 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.28 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.28 days ago in Fiction
Morning Outside the Door
Snow clings to the gate neighbor shakes out her wet rug water dots the steps.
By Lori A. A.28 days ago in Poets
The Left Side at 7:42
Every morning at 7:42, the bell at Saint Alder’s rang once. It did not signal the start of school. Classes began at eight. It did not warn of danger. It was not loud enough for that.
By Lori A. A.28 days ago in Fiction
Costumes We Believe
Humor peels back the layers we carry, Beliefs we wear without knowing, Mistaking roles for truth, Trusting the surface more than the substance.
By Lori A. A.28 days ago in Poets