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 (40/0)
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 Demossabout a year 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 Demossabout a year 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 Demossabout a year 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 Demossabout a year 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 Demossabout a year 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 Demossabout a year ago in Fiction
Daughter of Dragons
The pleasant scent of smoke wafted through the air as Ember soared over what used to be a thriving village. The fire was still smoldering in spots. She would never have risked flying so close to a human collective if she hadn't seen large amounts of dark smoke coming from that general direction the day before. Now she regretted giving in to her curiosity as the stench of burnt flesh reached her. Most of the figures below her were charred beyond recognition. Ember shook her head and continued toward the forest. The body of a female human lay motionless a few hundred feet from the forest’s edge. She appeared less damaged but no less deceased than the other villagers.
By Natalie Demoss2 years ago in Fiction
Expedition to Elaysia
“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say,” the AI instructor droned. Genesee rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah yeah. And if a tree fell in a forest and no one was there to hear it, would it make a sound? Why did they need to learn Philosophy? What was 0217 planning? Maybe the robotics specialists who created the AIs gave them too much personality. She was sure 0217 had a sadistic streak.
By Natalie Demoss2 years ago in Fiction
Blood Lust on the Morrian Express
A dull thudding in Zarek’s head penetrated the strange haze of deep sleep. It was the worst headache he’d ever had. Zarek slowly opened his eyes to find himself in darkness. As he tried to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, he realized his mouth tasted like someone had gagged him with a desert cat.
By Natalie Demoss2 years ago in Horror