Dagmar Goeschick
Stories (106)
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Winter Ritual
Winter arrives without asking. It comes quietly, often overnight, when the world has decided to slow down. Winter is cold. Winter is white. Winter lasts three long months—sometimes more—and sometimes it comes with snow, and sometimes only with the promise of it. Either way, it changes everything.
By Dagmar GoeschickExclusive • 29 days ago
Winter Ritual
Winter arrives without asking. It comes quietly, often overnight, when the world has decided to slow down. Winter is cold. Winter is white. Winter lasts three long months—sometimes more—and sometimes it comes with snow, and sometimes only with the promise of it. Either way, it changes everything.
By Dagmar GoeschickExclusive • 29 days ago
The Room at the End of the Hall
For thirteen years, the room at the end of Jane Albrecht’s hallway had remained closed. She dusted the doorknob now and then, polished it the way one polishes a memory: carefully, without daring to open anything. Guests sometimes asked what was inside.
By Dagmar Goeschickabout a month ago in Fiction
I Am What I Am
I am what I am, and who I am. I was born female, and I still am. My life began on a cold, snowy day just before Christmas—a quiet arrival into a world that had very little to offer. My parents were so poor at the time that they did not even own their own coffee mugs. They owned almost nothing at all, except now… me.
By Dagmar Goeschick2 months ago in Humans
