Catherine Kruger
Stories (13/0)
Cryophobia
Commander Mackenzie was afraid of ice on water. It seemed silly to anyone who didn’t know his story, but it was quite understandable to those who knew him. He had survived the sinking of the Titanic. When he explained his reasoning, everyone left it at that.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Fiction
Unlikely Courage
Part 7 of “The Scarecrow” The bangs and cracks of spells erupting from wands in battle gradually became more muffled as I ran aimlessly through the forest, frantically looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being pursued. My chest ached and felt more and more raw as I heavily breathed in the ice-cold air, which also made my face feel like it was being cut with a hundred little icy needles.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Fiction
Burning Marigolds
Part 4 of "The Scarecrow" The situation was bad enough to where I needed to go to the men and women in charge of the town. In the back of my mind, I found it a little silly that this was all over a scarecrow, though he was a very different scarecrow indeed. Then again, this wasn’t just about a scarecrow. It was about an age-old terror, a collective of witches hellbent on taking control of the town and its people.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Fiction
The Meeting
Part 3 of "The Scarecrow" The last thing I had expected that day was for Henry Weston’s nephew to show up, asking questions about the scarecrow Raincrest. I had been out of contact with him for nearly thirty years, and that was enough to satisfy me. I knew he was safe. I knew he was loved and cared for. I knew the witches who created him for their own amusement and abuse would never get their filthy hands on him.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Fiction
A Sprinkle of Mystery
Part 2 of "The Scarecrow" Even though this little town has seen magic of varying kinds before, it didn’t stop the incident with my uncle’s scarecrow from being a mystery—to me, at least. It was very cut-and-dry to an outsider, and what goes on in my family is none of their business.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Fiction
Legacy of Ash
Home was no longer home. It was a base, a shelter, a hideout, a safe haven. Still, a part of Tobias Denhart considered it home, even if it was half-buried in black volcanic sand and collapsed on the beach. The pillows with tropical floral designs, though dirty, were still sitting on the wicker chairs in the living room. The kitchen cabinets still had Tobias’s “Boss of the Year” mugs from his business back on Earth before he moved to the colony. Cracked pictures of his brother and his children were lying flat on the dusty coffee table.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Fiction
A Mongoose is Not A Mustelid
Picture this: you have an idea for a novel. You want it to be a bestseller. You want it to be enjoyed by anyone who picks it up. You already know how to write compelling action, emotionally investing romance, and richly crafted characters.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Education
Red Mediterranean
A battered rowboat lay in the wet sand. Its sole occupant lay nearby, unmoving. Saltwater lapped at both of them, taking blood with it. Red swirled into the sea. Further out, black smoke and fire billowed out from a destroyer, slowly sinking on its side into the Mediterranean, the victim of a German U-boat.
By Catherine Kruger3 years ago in Humans