Christiane Winter
Bio
Science fiction, horror, and dark comedy enthusiast. I have been a GM for D&D for 10 years, playing for nearly 20. Like all aspiring authors, I have hundreds of stories, and almost none have been finished.
Achievements (1)
Stories (18/0)
The Outsiders
The heat of the tropics was a stark contrast to the cool, melancholy feel that one would assume such a dreary place would have. It was dark, here; only a fragment of sunlight shimmering through the thick foliage of the forest. Vapors rose from the inky blackness of the dirt below, steam still rising and calling out from a long-dead volcano at the island's heart. The only thing more oppressive than the sweltering humidity here was the ear-splitting silence.
By Christiane Winterabout a year ago in Fiction
- Top Story - January 2023
Through Empty EyesTop Story - January 2023
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She spent long hours perched by the alcove window - a rare amenity for a no-frills New York City apartment, she had heard. For the "low, low" price of $2950, they, too, could have a heavily obstructed view of the Hudson river, barely gleaming out from behind the mammoth, pre-war brick and mortar apartment complex behind his. A 450 square foot 'paradise' in the city that never sleeps- laughable, but it wasn't as if either of them needed much space. Besides- while she was sure the Hudson was beautiful in all of its glory, she much preferred the view she did have: endless rows of windows in the building just across the way gave her a peek into the daily lives of people she had begun to see as friends. It was an intimate relationship she shared with them- seeing their most private and vulnerable moments through the filmy annealed glass. She couldn't speak to them, but she loved every single one of them. She had seen romances blossom, and friendships end. She had seen age wash over faces once young and full of promise. She had seen love and loss, grief and joy; the taste of those things was as close to feeling them herself as she ever needed. She'd resigned herself to watch over them for as long as she'd have this window. She wondered, on the lonelier nights, if they ever looked back at her, too.
By Christiane Winterabout a year ago in Fiction