Demi V.A. Lopez
Bio
Writer, Singer, Gamer, and lover of all things weird.
Neurodivergent, LGBTQ+, writing stories to increase visibility and representation.
Creating characters and stories you can fall in love with.
Creating worlds you'll never want to leave.
Stories (10/0)
The Curse of The Blood Countess
"I have had many names…" Fires raged beneath her feet, men in red robes wearing golden crucifixes and shouting indistinct obscenities and words which translated to "witch" and "heretic" stood before her, having lit said fire under the stake and pyre on top of which she stood, bloodied, bruised, dressed in but rags and barefoot, tied to the massive wooden spire. They spat at her, they laughed and reveled in her last burning moments. Villagers looked on, half amused, half horrified, and in their ranks was a young woman with tears streaming down her eyes, mouthing something like "I'm sorry" in vain. The woman shouted and let out a blood curdling shriek of agony and hatred, a vocalization so fearsome the men in red shook a moment and proceeded to hail Mary. Before her last breath, the woman howled what, to the villagers, sounded like a curse, but was actually a promise, or a threat.
By Demi V.A. Lopez3 months ago in Horror
•Are you lost?•
The trees call out to you, whispering in the wind Soft forgotten screams, the trees beckon. Despair? You feel something in your throat the closer you get to the deepest woods. A crawling over your skin, but it's autumn and the insects have returned to the earth. Can you hear them? You can hear them. The distant ancestors of the lost. Your ancestors. You're treading closely to the edge of where life meets the lifeless and the dark consumes the light. The wood is thick here, and it's hard to see ahead. But you feel it. Like a burning in your chest, like heavy hands on your back. And they whisper, but what do they say to you? What is it you hear in these dark woods? Afraid and curious, you trod on. The branches tugging at your clothes, roots threatening your fall. A cut across your cheek but the blood doesn't spill from your wound. It spills from your eyes. And the crying starts up again as the wind picks up. A barrage of leaves fly to you, blinding you, forcing you back. But you won't. The intoxicating darkness calls you with such seduction. A bleak desire to go on pushes you forward but suddenly a voice from behind echoes your name through the wood. It sounds desperate. It sounds sad. Why are they crying. You have to keep going. But you turn, and you're in deep. Are you lost?
By Demi V.A. Lopez5 months ago in Poets
Ominous Uncertainty
It was bitter, cold, and I was left alone. The atmosphere around me had teeth hidden behind a thick grey blanket that lay atop the grave below me. I’m swaying, floating and I can’t shake the feeling that hands will come up and drag me into the abyss with the rest that sleep here. Desperately, I beckon for help but only echoes find me. I really am alone out here in this. How did I get to this state? I don’t know. I awoke to this gloom, this icy tomb, as if transported against my will. I’ve been here too long, though, my hands and feet feel foreign, but they need to take me above to where I can feel what lies beneath me, and not this ominous uncertainty.
By Demi V.A. Lopez5 months ago in Horror
