Angel and Demona: Flash Fiction, #2

By Allison M. Azulay

Life in Hell can be trying, even for a witch. But some just can't seem to leave, no matter how they try.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ALLISON MARGARET AZULAY
• Release date: Jan 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781989215500

Allison M. Azulay

Born to Canadian parents of mixed, predominantly British heritage, Allison M. Azulay spent her formative years in a village outside of the capital city of Ottawa and her teen years in the steel city of Hamilton, Ontario. Like her mother, she read voraciously, and she composed stories of her own at home as well as in school. Later, encouraged by her husband to explore her ideas and talents, she wrote poems, short stories, children's storybooks for relatives, and more. After the death of her husband, she began to write and independently publish novels and short stories.

Book preview

Allison M. Azulay

Angel and Demona

A Flash Fiction Paranormal Romance

Copyright © 2019 by Allison M. Azulay.  All rights reserved.

The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Angel and Demona is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

https://www.allison-m-azulay.ca

ISBN 978-1-989215-50-0 (ePub second edition)

Cover art by Allison M. Azulay

Published by Allison M. Azulay in Renfrew, Ontario, Canada

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

AUTHOR’S NOTES

CHAPTER 1

My name is Demona and I live in Hell. No, not that one. The other one. The actual town. Yes, that is its name. And yeah, it gets pretty hot. And pretty cold. Though not usually on the same day.

Never heard of it? I’m not surprised. We’re not on maps. Not even on Google. Nobody comes here on purpose. People just drift into this bowl-shaped valley by accident, lost on their way to somewhere else. A few settle; some families have been here for generations. But most leave as soon as they get directions to wherever they’re headed, or stay a few months or a few years and then move on when they can. Even our mail has to be fetched by locals because the Postal Service can’t quite figure out who we are or where we are.

My great-grandmother says it’s all because this valley is a power point. One of many on the planet, apparently, but most don’t have the special weirdness that exists here: like the world sort of hides us away, not only tucking us into a remote dale surrounded by wooded hills, but covering us with a kind of ethereal shroud that even satellites can’t penetrate. GPS doesn’t work at all in Hell. Nor do cell phones. And internet can only be accessed through buried wires or cables and only when there’s a storm.

Funny thing is a highway comes by here. Granddad Max used to say it kisses the valley. He meant it passes by but only connects by way of a side road. Nevertheless, people wander through all the time, which is why we have a sizable population, albeit one that shifts with the frequent income and outgo of outsiders. They’re drawn here, Gran says. And that’s