Natalie Demoss
Bio
Single mom to an Autistic child and budding author and artist finally following my dreams. The hand drawn art on my stories is my own.
Stories (32/0)
Croaked Magic
“Delia!” I cried, frantically hopping around, trying to get her attention. “Delia! Over here!” She looked up from her spell book. Delia was three years older than me. My father had taken her as an apprentice when her working-class family realized she had a propensity for magic.
By Natalie Demossabout a month ago in Fiction
Goddess in the Moonlit Forest
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The last rays of the sun kissed the clouds as it sank. While most of the area slumbered, the fields and forests bustled with activity as the nocturnal creatures awoke.
By Natalie Demossabout a month ago in Fiction
Once Upon a Raven’s Wing
Ever since I was a child, strange and occasionally terrifying dreams have afflicted me. More often than not, I experience an odd sensation of my body feeling heavy enough to sink into my mattress like a lead weight while also light as air, as if I am floating above myself.
By Natalie Demossabout a month ago in Fiction
Memoirs of a Happy Home
If walls could talk...of course walls can talk. Everything can talk. It's just that very few are able to hear beyond their own reality. All they hear are the creaks and groans of me and my household brethren settling. The entire house can see and hear all within and around it. Mirrors see the most as they are a reflection of what is happening with their range. Windows see the least, for all that they allow others to see through them. But yes, walls can hear and see and talk and even feel far more than one would expect.
By Natalie Demoss2 months ago in Fiction
Poisoned Flower of Paradise
Jessamine stood at the edge of the rocky cliff gazing out over the crashing waves. Below her was a crowded beach, popular with tourists. She loved the water but not the influx of people escaping the frigid winters of their homelands. Jessamine was tired of the cold, too. Unfortunately, there was no escaping it for her. Despite the sun shining down, there was no warmth in her bones.
By Natalie Demoss2 months ago in Fiction
Prison of Glass and Stone
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. It was a never-ending kaleidoscope of colors as the seasons changed. A vast sea stretched beyond the garden below. The colors were subtle - blues, greys, and sometimes white, constantly crashing on the shore. Sometimes the sun shone brightly through the window. Other times the view was blurred by rain running down the glass.
By Natalie Demoss3 months ago in Fiction
Winter Weekend Getaway at Dagger Lake
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. My knuckles were white, and my fingers were numb from holding onto the oh-shit handle so tightly. The number of potholes we’d hit, coupled with the slush and icy spots, made for a nerve-wracking trip. At least, the portion of it since we stocked up on supplies in the backwater conglomeration of buildings that called itself a town was in dire need of repairs.
By Natalie Demoss4 months ago in Horror
Mysteries of the Heart
I shrugged my blue jacket on and turned the collar up against the cold. The jacket was old. It had frayed edges, and the zipper didn't always work, but it was the warmest one I owned. When I paired it with my fleece hoodie, I could pretend I couldn't feel the winter chill - almost.
By Natalie Demoss4 months ago in Fiction
Riyah’s Song
Riyah twisted in front of the floor-length mirror, admiring the inky black dress. The sleeveless satin bodice hugged her torso while the long skirt billowed around her. Her 3-D printed pistol loaded with silver bullets and a silver knife were strapped to her leg, hidden beneath the heavy material. A Kevlar layer in the bodice and an underskirt designed to deceive a metal detector added to the weight. A pair of black stilettos finished off the outfit.
By Natalie Demoss5 months ago in Fiction
