Natasja Rose
Bio
I've been writing since I learned how, but those have been lost and will never see daylight (I hope).
I'm an Indie Author, with 30+ books published.
I live in Sydney, Australia
Stories (495)
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Not All Struggles Are Visible
Insurmountable The Mountain as Metaphor For Struggles inside. * Note for people struggling with the haiku count: Using apostrophes to cut out syllables might make you sound like Shakespeare, and possibly more than a little pretentious, but it's a valid and legitimate cheat.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Poets
Everest
Excuse me, how high? Sub-zero? Free climb? Death count? Absolutely not! * Note for people struggling with the haiku count: Using apostrophes to cut out syllables might make you sound like Shakespeare, and possibly more than a little pretentious, but it's a valid and legitimate cheat.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Poets
Climb Every Mountain
Climb ev'ry mountain, Reach the peak and gaze around. Sad as you descend. * Note for people struggling with the haiku count: Using apostrophes to cut out syllables might make you sound like Shakespeare, and possibly more than a little pretentious, but it's a valid and legitimate cheat.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Poets
Sender Unknown
Objectively, there was nothing suspicious about the package. Delivered by drone, with an innocent looking return address, no sender's name, and plain brown packaging, there was nothing to set it apart from thousands of other packages delivered daily to doorsteps around the country. No suspicious noises from inside, no unexplained movement, odd smells or ominious ticking. No warning signs whatsoever. Just a single parcel delivered to their house by an unidentified drone.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Fiction
For All Those Whom We Love and Value - Chapter Three
Prologue Chapter One Read the previous chapter here... Phoebe paced in the small sitting room she shared with the spinster who let the room on the other side, having been driven from the confines of her own room by sheer nerves.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Chapters
Drakath’s Hoard of Lost and Abandoned Children
The cry of a human infant was very distinctive. Soaring high above the forest, Drakath heard it and swiftly banked into a dive, narrowing in on the sound. He ignored the curse and near-yank on his horns from his passenger at the sudden change in motion, landing on the lowest branch capable of holding his weight, craning his neck down as far as he could.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Fiction
