Caitlin Samminga
Bio
Let me start with saying I am a mom, wife, student, writer, furry mom, and sometimes explorer extraordinaire (I have a toddler lol.) Writing is a passion of mine! I can't wait to interact with you!
Stories (6)
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The Box
Scratch marks trailed from the front door to the living room. It had arrived earlier and neither of us dared to open it. “You know, it couldn’t be anything bad.” My husband’s voice sounded unsure, always unsure. We both stared at the wooden box. No labels, no return address, no hint as to where it came from. “We should just open it.” He mindlessly inched away from it. I saw him shifting on his feet, each shift resulting in more distance.
By Caitlin Samminga3 years ago in Fiction
Never Truly Lost
Sparks flew into the air as he beat a misshapen sword. A small toddler running around his feet. “Get out of the way.” He pushed the boy aside. A blacksmiths forge warmed the small room. The cool autumn breeze doing little to cut through the heat of it. “This is no place for a child! Move out of the way Malcom,” he said.
By Caitlin Samminga3 years ago in Fiction
Furry Angels
We have had Shamar for, roughly, three-and-a-half years. She is a German/Austrailian Shepherd and boy did I not understand what I was getting when we picked her up. I Quickly learned how affectionate, energetic, intelligent (still learning this), and loyal this combination breed is. When we started her training I remember the trainer saying she would never do a shepherd. We asked why and she stated "I would never do a breed smarter than me." She was so right, Shamar shows us this frequently and we love her for it!
By Caitlin Samminga3 years ago in Petlife
Mortality
An easel sat in the corner of the room with a half-painted portrait. A lamp set beside it, shining brightly. The only light in the small motel room. A woman sat on the edge of one of the two beds. The light barely touched her. She was young, black hair, crimson lips, and pale skin. Right across from her, sitting at the easel, was a man holding a paint brush.
By Caitlin Samminga4 years ago in Fiction
Blurred Lines
Thump, screech, thump, screech. He blinked slowly, barely awake, between the motion and the sounds his head spun with dizziness. Lights were flashing. Pain shot through his back and shoulders, he squirmed. He was atop a metal bed, no blanket or pillow in sight. He pushed himself up to look around.
By Caitlin Samminga4 years ago in Fiction
