Amara Telgemeier Novels & Stories

Amara responded slowly, her tone layered with an undercurrent of caution as if she sensed something was off. But I won’t be living with you guys anymore, Marceline's mind screamed silently. “Did I hear you correctly?” Amara asked, her brow wrinkling slightly in concern. “Yes,” she replied, summoning rehearsed calm. “It’s the nature of the job. I’ll be working as the CEO’s secretary, and it’s apparently… common for someone in my position to live on-site with him.” Amara blinked, confusion and surprise etched across her features. “What kind of job requires the secretary to live with her boss?”

Her body jerks violently backward as she releases Nyra’s wrist, stumbling away as if struck by an unseen force. “What happened?” I demand. Amara presses both hands against her temples, breathing ragged and uneven as panic flickers across her face like lightning flashing behind storm clouds. “I saw something,” she whispers. Her voice trembles. Nyra clutches her wrist, blood still dripping slowly against pale skin as her own expression tightens with alarm. “What did you see?” I press. Amara swallows hard, shaking her head once as if trying to clear images burned too deep into memory. “A tower,” she whispers slowly. “Stone.. tall.. broken windows..”

every second of my pain and I couldn't do anything. nothing to stop her. "Do you think you're special?" she finally said to me. "Do you think you're going to be the first boarding school wolf to pass the challenge?" She chuckled and sneered at me. "You're nobody, Amara . No one is going to help you here." I tried to free myself from the restraints, but it was useless; they were made of very strong magical materials. So I had to resign myself to my fate: to spend the next few months tortured by Melania until I would finally die... Or worse: I would become a monster like herself. There was no way he could escape. Melania was sitting in a chair across from me, watching me with her bright eyes.

Her assistant, Lina, noticed her distraction. “You okay, Ama?” she asked gently. Amara forced a smile. “Yeah. Just didn’t sleep well.” But Lina didn’t buy it. “You look like someone who’s reading ghosts again.” That line made Amara freeze. Reading ghosts. That’s exactly what it felt like as if she were reading the voice of someone no longer real, someone rewritten. That night, she opened her emails, trying to distract herself until one caught her attention. It was from an unrecognized address: j.sage@postmirror.net. The subject line read: “You need to see this.”

Amara’s apartment was small but warm, perched on the fifth floor of an aging brick building that smelled faintly of rain-soaked concrete and the bakery downstairs. It was her sanctuary—one place untouched by the chaos she sometimes glimpsed through her camera lens. Here, the walls were lined with books and mismatched frames, the kitchen counter always cluttered with coffee mugs and film canisters. She’d come home early, trying to convince herself the tension from the studio that morning would fade once she was in her own space. She brewed tea, curled on the couch with her laptop, and let the steady hum of the radiator fill the silence.

lots of love, amara<3

"He…he was r-raped by s-some of the b-boys from the h-hockey t-team. He t-took h-his o-own life thr-ee days before w-we tur-turned eight-t-teen.” "Amaris," Zara whimpers my name, taking a step towards me. I shake my head no and put my hand up to stop her. Closing my eyes to give myself a moment, I take a deep breath and wipe the moisture from beneath my eyes and cheeks, then continue speaking. "I didn't know that I was anything other than human until I almost shifted in class." Glendon's muttered, "Oh, crap," clues me in that that would have definitely gone badly.

Amara stared for a little while, then returned to stare at the screen. "Amara!" Her Mom called her upstairs and she got up to go. We all watched her leave. Izanagi's eyes were sparkling, I thought he might feel uncomfortable at first but then I also had to recall this was his first time meeting Amamiya-san. "Who was that?" he asked. "Amara's Mom." "She's like the dark version of Ms. Bellum." "Who?" Claire whipped her neck to study Izanagi, eyes widened. Almost as if offended at first, but then she thought about it some more and covered her mouth. "No... Yo, wait, she does dress like Ms. Bellum sometimes!"

The way her thoughts were reminiscing her childhood feels like Ameira currently shares the body with her as a co-conscious. Being raised with limits and trained to be always aware of her actions, Ameira was locked in a dark room. She’s caged by her own emotions. Scared, she distanced herself from people thus worsening her situation, and now she ended up hiding behind six people of different names and characters, all compressed in her petite body; the six of them using the same face as they travel around the city in pursuit of their own desires. Aimee got back to her senses when a little kid bumped onto her.