Kaitlin Oster
Bio
Professional writer.
Owner - Shadow Work Consulting, LLC
David Lynch MFA Program for Screenwriting with MIU, graduation 2023
Writing collaboration or work, speaking engagements, interviews - [email protected]
Stories (30/0)
Stay with me
I mean, growing up, I always had this innate fear I would lose my mother, a stubborn German who loved hard and disliked herself even harder. Some days, in the years following her death, I blamed myself, thinking my fears materialized and led to losing her. I spent 20 years witnessing her self-destruct, and eventually that became the norm; I simply accepted the inevitability of things, losing her emotionally long before she died. As I got older I began to ask myself, could I have tried harder? I would find old photos of her where she stared into the lens, and tried to make eye contact with the past in an attempt to understand what year the light escaped her and addiction stepped in with a futile flame. I searched for her pain before me - for validation that I didn’t cause her to lose hope in herself.
By Kaitlin Oster10 months ago in Chapters
Cycle
“All that was, still shall be.” Death drove her open hand into a rotting log and watched the wood fall away in a heap of ash. She produced a closed fist that, once opened, revealed an acorn. Death made a notch in the ash pile and tenderly tucked the acorn away before continuing through the woods.
By Kaitlin Osterabout a year ago in Fiction
Little Kingdom
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Margot lay on her bed, as always, and gazed out to the world of trees that leaned and pitched crooked and forlorn, often without leaves. She couldn’t remember life before Frank’s care, and when he took her in she was otherwise unwanted, as he put it. Only little snippets of Margot’s origin came from him, and only when he was ready to share. Whether the truth was too painful for his own heart, or that he didn’t want to overwhelm her with details, she didn’t know. When Margot was young she’d beg for tales of her childhood, but even her pleading eyes were met with resistance.
By Kaitlin Oster2 years ago in Fiction
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 Oster2 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 Oster2 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 Oster2 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 Oster2 years ago in Fiction
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