charlotte meilaender
Bio
Performing artist with an itch for writing. Fueled by coffee and the age-old wish to create something worthwhile. Welcome to my world <3
Follow the journey on my instagram @cmmwriting for updates on my stories and behind the scenes looks.
Stories (21/0)
Home Turf
This is part 2 of a mini series! Part 1, Home Turf: A job, is up on my profile! Tag awoke to icy water dripping on her face. Directly above her were the leaking beams of a roof, from which water drops fell in regular intervals. A drop landed on her lips and she sensed the metallic taste of rust.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction
Home Turf
Tag strode down the noisy street, keeping her head down to blend into the crowds. She burrowed her chin into her collar to keep off the chill, thinking longingly of the grimy boardinghouse and the room she rented there. She had stayed there for two weeks now, and the city felt more familiar than it had at first, but still strange. It was different from what it had been when she was younger. How many years ago was that now? Five? Six? It felt both like forever and like no time had passed.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction
Of Fire and Hope
It was a gray day. Mist hung low over the city. Cans, paper bags, and debris lay everywhere. Half-starved people sat at street corners, or dragged themselves along the road, their eyes staring straight ahead, as if death had overtaken them. In the graveyard of the city of Caershire, two children, a boy and a girl, stood. They were both thin and ragged like all the others. They stood next to two graves. Carved into the stone in a careless hand were two names: Miriam and Will Adelda.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction
A Homecoming...
Tallan stood in the high-ceilinged room, feeling the emptiness all around him. Everyone had stepped back from him, standing against the walls, spectators to whatever would enfold. As Tallan watched, a man pushed his way through the crowd standing on the raised platform. He was tall and poorly dressed, in drab browns and grays, and his face had a hard look about it. He stepped out in front of the others—and suddenly froze as his eyes met Tallan’s.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction
Quartz Quarter Plans
Lelia lingered at the school gate, waiting for Tanner. Students pushed past her, laughing and making afternoon plans. Lelia glanced down at the heart-shaped locket at her neck. Absentmindedly she snapped it open to reveal the watch face underneath. 3:05.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction
Of Paperclips and Printshops
Katy stood in the drizzling rain and eyed the back door of the shop dubiously. Her hands and feet were cold, and she was beginning to wonder if any of this was a good idea. Beside her, Cornwell pursed his lips as if whistling a tune, but no sound came out.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction
Summer
It was a hazy late summer day. Leon stood in the field under the beating sun, the tall grasses brushing against his face. He felt the earth baked hard as rock under his feet. It was too hot to be out. All the grown-ups were inside, lounging lazily about, draping themselves over couches and chairs. Leon didn’t mind the heat, but he was alone outside, in a huge empty stillness that really wasn’t still because of the constant droning of the cicadas. He went back to the house, his feet padding lightly on the uneven ground. In front, the hounds lay in dusty depressions they had dug in the hard-packed earth. Up on the porch, the men sat drinking hot, black coffee in the shade of the sagging roof. Min sat on the front steps, drawing in a jade-colored notebook. She had nothing to do now that Jack was lying upstairs in a dark room with a bandage wrapped around his head. None of the other children were in sight.
By charlotte meilaender3 years ago in Fiction