Tonya R Moore

Tightrope Cat

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

Masika sat in her apartment, cowed by the gloom and dirty-gray walls. That old fashioned clock in the kitchen was ticking so loudly it scraped at her nerves. Her fingers itched to rip it down. Her toes curled into the fabric of her couch. She pondered the problem, biting the nail of her thumb, all the way down to the nub.

She could stomp it into silence with her heel, maybe. Smash it to smithereens. The mental image made her laugh. It came out awkwardly, somewhere between a choke and a sob.

Gatherer

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

At first, it didn’t seem so strange, waking up by the sea. I thought I’d simply fallen asleep after my usual swim again. The damp sand was itchy, crackled bits of seashells were cutting into my skin. I was tired to the bone, so I didn’t mind that too much. Waves were idly lapping at my toes. There was a nice breeze rolling over the water.

Sweet Belladonna

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

Capella: the tiny planet languishing in the soft crimson glow of her dying star had been a late bloomer, coaxed into habitability by human colonists only a few centuries earlier. The tiny body was nestled among a dusty smattering of moons and asteroids that awkwardly wobbled along the outer edges of the Magellanic Spiral. Cappella boasted no major goods or tourist attractions, and was more often overlooked than not, by most respectable commercial enterprises throughout the known worlds.

Bird of Paradise

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

Midnight was always Gabe's favorite hour. There's a pulse that flows in the air, making everything – even inanimate objects seem to move like predators. Trees sway with attitude in the spring breeze.

Off the Beaten Path is Up the Creek

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

The highway is a thing of beauty, as long as you understand that what you see is more than a mere ribbon of asphalt receding into the thirsty horizon on a desert road. The boy named Case, he knew it well. He'd been fascinated with the thing since he was a child and the Tourog first came to earth with their massive plans for a trans-galactic highway that would curl right though the middle of our boring little planet.

Devious Machine

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

Ginger conjured a cool, dark river. The bottoms of her feet actually tingled as they slipped over the smooth rocks in the virtual riverbed. As she lowered her body into the wetness, frightened river fish darted around her legs. She heard birds hidden in the boughs of the great trees surrounding her insular sanctuary. She thought that she could hear their anxious voices, the furtive fluttering of fragile wings. Everything echoed, even her breath...

Devious Machine, a short story | Genre: Science Fiction | Posted at: The Hive Mind on 10/01/09

Read the Complete Story

Neophyte and Paradox

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

I've been having the same dream ever since I became Xu's apprentice at the Southern Temple. It happens at odd moments, whether I'm awake or asleep. The world melts into stormy blue and wet. I get caught up in a silent, spinning wind. Abstract visions come streaming by me in torrents. I keep reaching out, trying to grasp at one--any one, just so I might be anchored to something nearly tangible. It's not the full feeling I get when I imagine floating in outer space without a tether. This is something else. It makes me sick to the stomach. My tongue froths but I can't swallow.

Ghost & Hammer

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

John Miller entered the bridge of the Dawne Empress and sat in the pilot's chair. He winced a little at the toll it took on his knee and grinned as he switched off the autopilot, adjusted their course, and initiated a routine systems check.

"Not as spry as I used to be am I, old girl?"

His matter of fact murmur was met with a soft beep that he could swear was the ship answering. He was a relic - a treasure hunter of sorts.

The Last Archangel

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

When she was earth bound, Alys wore the scars of her vocation with pride. The hardware semi-permanently fused into her head, arms, and back – input terminals for the iron maiden's controls, could only ever be replaced, not removed.

The Lesson

Tonya Moore — Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00 +0000

The first blow came without warning. She wasn't stupid. She'd known it was coming and was waiting. She moved ever so slightly, dipping low as his fist
connected with the wall. She reared up head jutting into the chest and sent her assailant flying halfway across the room. He tumbled, he rolled with a a jerky
sort of grace. He was on his feet again and lunged towards her. Her eyes darted to the left, as did his. They both dived sideways and lunged after the swords on
the table.

Not quick enough to stop the other, each lurched away out of reach. The mere five feet between them seemed like thousands of miles. The both held matching
fighting stances, legs apart balance perfect, rolling their weight from one side to the next.

"What do you want to do most right now?" He asked, sharp eyes focused on hers, absorbing her every move.

She swallowed hard, forcing her body to relax fighting to steady her breathing. Her forehead was shiny with sweat.
"Come at you with everything I have." She answered but she didn't come after him.

She maintained her wary stance. Her eyes never left his face. She waited for any subtle change the slightest motion
or expression that might betray his intent.

"Why don't you?"
"Because you said. I have to wait for the right instant. To see what you will do."
"You completely missed my