Amelia Carter
Bio
Hey there, I have a passion for storytelling through writing and creating people, places, and adventures. Hope you enjoy my stories!
Stories (9/0)
When in London
We were wet. From the rain, from sweating profusely on our 10 mile hike on the outskirts of London. Every inch of our clothes stained darker from the unforgivable downpour we had found ourselves in. It was our sixth date, and it was going incredibly well. Samuel was one of those people, you just feel comfortable around. When he simply smiled at me, I swear everyone could see I was glowing.
By Amelia Carter 6 months ago in Filthy
Catalina Pt. 1
I heard a gentle knock at the golden door entering my bedchambers. The room I sat in had become my safe haven since being given the title of Queen nearly seven years prior. An oakwood desk set by the tall arching windows, and my feathered bed lay in the center of the magnificent room, encircled by long drapes of red and gold.
By Amelia Carter 6 months ago in Filthy
The Siren's Call (And the breaking of My limitations)
I had never seen the Atlantic Ocean like this before. Rich blue waves crashing against rocky cliffs and arches, while small Iberian hares munched on the wild grass that rippled along the winding hills where a single paved road ventured through. My face stared inches away from the glass window, mesmerized by the scenic views surrounding the little black car I sat in. My Uber driver, Adao, sang a Portuguese song on the radio in a low mumble to himself.
By Amelia Carter 8 months ago in Chapters
The Music In My Head
I listened to my unbearably torn Saddle shoes click on the sidewalk. Click. Click. Click. A crimson morning sky, bleeding with the promise of a new day, showered above my head. I hummed to myself, a spontaneous rhythm I didn’t necessarily know. And then as if someone had whispered gently into my ear, I heard the lyrics. Words and notes sewn together on music score in my mind. Abruptly, I stopped myself and dug through my old worn leather purse. Paper. I needed paper, and a pen. I always seemed to carry both somewhere on my person.
By Amelia Carter 8 months ago in Fiction
It Was Always You
“Hey,” I motioned to the waiter with my hand as I sat down on the tall bar stool. “Can I get,” I searched the wedding dessert menu in front of me with a numb expression. “A slice of chocolate cake, please?” The waiter nodded and walked to the back to get it. I sighed and laid my little black purse on the granite counter as I turned my seat to face the dance floor. Everyone was still eating their dessert, fortunately for me, no one had begun slow dancing. It was hard enough going to these weddings alone, where two people swore to devote their love and lives to each other. But seeing them dancing across the floor, looking into each other's eyes like that, it was just too much for me to take. The waiter came back with a little silver plate and a huge slice of cake. My mouth watered with expectations. I thanked him and reached for a fork, ready to eat my feelings, when suddenly…
By Amelia Carter 3 years ago in Fiction
Letting Her Go
Breathe. It’s okay. I have to let her go. It was all I could say to keep my eyes from filling up with tears that morning. I had contemplated not going at all, wondering if it would just be better if I stayed home than witnessing what I had been dreading for weeks. But bravely, I stepped forward into the morning sunshine, observing my nervous thoughts as my thick muck boots hit against the road below me. It was a short walk to the old barn, mainly uphill but I was happy to have some time to think before the moment I knew was coming. Reaching my hand inside my jean pocket, I could feel two peppermints wrapped carefully inside. It was her favorite treat and today, I wanted to make sure I gave her one, one last time. I thought of the many moments when I had talked to her, stroking her forehead with my hand as she simply listened. She always listened. She was a calm and gentle mare, but somewhere deep inside her aged heart was still a locker full of firecrackers and passion. She would suddenly in a moment of peace display more strength and spunk than anyone ever thought she could at her age, but I loved that about her. My trainer called it disobedience and tried to force the 26 year old to follow orders every moment. But Misty hardly listened. And I never blamed her. She had lived a long life. Her white hairs were beginning to blossom around her eyes and a few strands of grey were becoming more visible down her flowing tail. She had foaled a child and been a mother. But she had been a friend and a teacher to me in numerous ways.
By Amelia Carter 3 years ago in Petlife
