Kaitlin Oster
Bio
Professional writer.
MFA Screenwriting - David Lynch School of Cinematic Arts
Website: kaitlinoster.com
Writing collaboration or work, speaking engagements, interviews - [email protected]
Achievements (7)
Stories (37)
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True North. Runner-Up in Weekend Getaway Challenge.
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. Ponderosa Pines pitched low and forward from the weight of the latest storm. The wheels of my car creaked and crunched through the unpaved path. I moved slowly, but he and I buzzed together side-by-side, giddy with anticipation of our impending adventure.
By Kaitlin Oster3 years ago in Fiction
Ouroboros. Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge.
1. The last thing Leander could have possibly anticipated was the burden of a human — and a human child, no less. When he left the Old Gates in search of the priestess in the valley, he only meant to bring her magic back into the Otherworld, not find a child at his feet. The deities were becoming restless and hungry, and if magic wasn’t readily available the only option would be to harvest souls. For centuries, Leander was successful in maintaining peace at the Old Gates, and he had no interest in a child imprinting on him. Especially during such a turbulent time.
By Kaitlin Oster3 years ago in Fiction
The Hunting Grounds
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. I didn’t believe it at first, but it was undeniable; The faint orange that attracted me with flickering, whispering screams. I watched from my study in the main house some couple hundred yards away. Originally Mother’s sewing room, the study now kept my books and collections on various topics, mainly the occult. Mother made all of our clothes in this room before the madness took her. Before we had to keep her in the cabin at the back of the property.
By Kaitlin Oster4 years ago in Horror
Greta. Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge.
She rummaged through grease-coated bins of ancient tools and junk — things far older than her and certainly useless. She had no particular outcome in mind; Greta wasn’t looking for anything. But the most spectacular things always seem to happen when we aren’t looking.
By Kaitlin Oster4 years ago in Fiction
Two Pieces
Swarms of people gathered at the terminal and waited impatiently for it to open. All walks of life - men, women, and children formed like hungry animals, eager to board the next ferry across. The terminal was more frightening than the boat ride, it seemed; Wet, dirty cobblestone and high cavern ceilings of what surely felt like the center of the earth gave way for a symphony of echoes from nervous voices and shuffling feet. It wasn’t just the echoes, though, but the stink of tragedy that still hung to the freshly departed passengers. The growls and groans of a three-headed beast on the other side of the foggy river was a welcome tune.
By Kaitlin Oster4 years ago in Fiction
Just Like Mother's
"Is there anything you'd like to eat?" He looked down at the woman. She was slight, tired-looking on this day, with her neatly starched gray ensemble and hair in a bun. She wasn't wearing make-up, but her face was clean. She looked up and smiled gently at the man.
By Kaitlin Oster5 years ago in Horror
The Decay of the Farm
Old Man Jack's yellow recliner sat at the entrance of the red barn on the back of the property. Like Jack, the recliner was also very old, with fabric pilled and pulled along the back and arms from years of lingering in the elements. I was often tempted to call him "Uncle Jack," because I had an Uncle Jack, but my parents were adamant to never call him that. He never has been, and never will be. It was well enough, I figured, since he always threatened to feed our barn kittens rat poison for letting them climb all over his yellow recliner.
By Kaitlin Oster5 years ago in Fiction
