Caitlin Kubitz
Bio
Hi there!
Just an awkward person trying to adjust to adulthood. I'm a wife, a friend, and a dog mom. I am interested in writing Western fiction.
Stories (4/0)
Aquaphobia
When I was 9 years old, I nearly drowned. I had begged my parents to send me to Camp Silverlake. I came across a flyer for the summer camp while at my school’s library. The advertisement consisted of field trips to amusement parks, campfires, kayaking, and several more captivating activities that excited me as a young boy. While my parents were not fond of how far away the camp was from our hometown, they advised me that they would allow it on the condition I brought up my below-average mark in mathematics. So, like any headstrong kid, I studied, did extra credit assignments, and even took advantage of meeting with a tutor during my lunch and recess hours. My persistence paid off when I brought home my report card displaying an “A” for the class. As promised, my parents contacted Camp Silverlake admissions, and a few months later I was on the bus to what I thought would be the best summer of my life.
By Caitlin Kubitz3 years ago in Fiction
Snowbound
My flimsy leatherbound shoes kept sinking in the blanket of snow that hugged the ground as we trekked through bone-chilling gusts of wind that threatened to blow me away. The sky was dark, but the stars and moon illuminated our path as we pressed on. The branches of White Oaks and Elm trees struggled to support the never-ceasing blizzard as snowflakes stuck to them. We were confined to traveling only at night, for fear of being detected by Confederates, slave hunters, or anyone wielding a gun because we were severely vulnerable. As much as we wanted to stop and find shelter, food, and warmth, we had no choice but to continue this dangerous journey to the Potomac River. There, our freedom waited. For this dangerous feat, we had to endure four perilous river crossings. The James River would be the first and the most difficult of them all. With it being just south of Richmond, word got out quickly that three runaways were making a break for it.
By Caitlin Kubitz3 years ago in Fiction
The Late Old Woman
The Old Woman was late. Sunlight flowed into the room like a river, steady and with authority. It reflected off the stark white sheets that embraced the woman’s frail, petite body, withered with age. She groaned as she hoisted herself out of the deep slumber that took over her the night before. The woman quietly cursed under her breath. How could she have allowed herself to sleep in so carelessly? Quickly as she could, she hobbled to the master bathroom and examined her reflection in the pristine ornate carved wooden mirror. Crow’s feet and purple bags under her eyes were the least of the problems she had to worry about this morning. It was a miracle she still had all her teeth. They may have been stained, and her breath smelled like death every morning when she rose, but the more she stood there gawking at her train wreck of an appearance, the more time she wasted to remedy herself. The old woman rapidly peeled off her faded pink nightgown and let it fall on the bathroom floor. She could feel her face flush as she strained to lift a shaky leg over the side of the tub, followed by another.
By Caitlin Kubitz3 years ago in Fiction
