Demitrius Covington
Bio
Hi I'm Demitrius. I'm a 31 year old writer. I've always had a creative voice but not until my 20's was I able to truly refine it. It was a contest that bought me to vocal, but I hope to remain here and forge connections with other writers.
Stories (5/0)
Th Winter War
Grant’s eyes instinctively shot open and he immediately cursed the light. As had become his new normal, he just laid there until he had the will to pull himself up and begin his day. It had been nine months now since he had decided to leave his apartment with Santa or Nicholas as he preferred to be called. It had been eleven since Elsie, all in all it had been the longest year of his life. After about twenty minutes, Grant finally took a deep breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, his foot connected with an empty bottle. Grant looked around the room and saw several empty bottles. This had quickly become his new normal, Grant would drink until he blacked out, then he’d wake up the next day hating himself, just to repeat the process.
By Demitrius Covington2 years ago in Horror
Furui Okami(The Old Wolf)
Junichiro opened his eyes, he felt the many aches and pains of age but he wouldn’t trade them. He went through his daily routine around his property. All and all it was a quiet day that he would likely spend dozing by the river and fishing, the spoils he had earned with retirement. He knelt down for his morning meditation, then he heard the screams. It was a queer sound, Junichiro had chosen this town because it was so small, because time had forgotten it, this warranted investigating. Junichiro rose again, cursing the soreness in his joints. He put on his cloak, gathered his walking stick, and departed. Junichiro pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, the morning frost was still on the air. Perhaps it was an omen, though Junichiro never took stock in such things, he believed in facts in what was tangible the only omen he needed that something was wrong were the screams on the air. Whatever this was, he wanted it over quickly so Junichiro quickened his pace.
By Demitrius Covington3 years ago in Futurism
Black Gold
t was 1870, after my Pa did his bit for Old Man Lincoln, he got himself a small farm out in Wyoming territory, it was me, my Pa, my ma, and my sister. We worked hard, but the land was ours. Things went normally till a stranger came calling one unseasonably warm December night. He came riding to our farmstead on a horse blacker than the deepest midnight, though it didn’t seem to gallop it was more a glide, and when he strode up to our front door the animals kicked up an awful racket, I suppose in hindsight we should have heeded their warning. But my ole Pa, ever the gentleman he went and invited the stranger in with no hesitation. He gave me the willies so ikept my distance, still though when My ma took his coat, i noticed the way he stared at her and my sister, like a starved wolf eyeing up a particularly fat sheep that had strayed off too far from the herd. It sent a cold shiver down my spine. But before I could raise up a voice to protest, my pa hurried us out of the room saying that grown folks had business to discuss.
By Demitrius Covington3 years ago in Horror
Black Dawn
It was a shame, she was a beautiful girl, however the fact remained. She had seen him. He was lost in the moment with one of his latest playthings, and she absentmindedly taking out the trash at the dive bar she scratched out a living at. She saw him, and he saw her. There was an unspoken agreement between them that she wouldn't tell. But in this town, secrets were power. And as he was the premier agent in these parts his secrets could make her a golden goddess. He mulled over it for a few weeks, as he watched her. Watched as she attended countless auditions, trying like so many young beautiful children in this city to become a star. He could have made her the star that she was dying to be. But unfortunately, she had seen him. Now the only place she'd be a star was on the coroner's slab, then on the mortician's table as he made her beautiful one last time.
By Demitrius Covington3 years ago in Horror
