C. A. Winter Blog

 Sterile. Aloof. White walls and sleek design. Plastic succulents and LG keyboards. Stuck in a cubicle. A pig. A pig. A pig in a cardigan. Smile by the watering hole and head into my office. A raise. A raise. Something that makes my pain go numb. When will I get approval. Didn't see your Slack message. Lunch. A box. A little turquoise piece of plastic with a salad. Call it healthy, dash of ranch. A marathon of ranch. They eat. They smack. They reheat their ethnic food. Isn't even your culture, why are you staring at me. Leaving, peeing, sitting till my legs go numb. Boss is working round the clock to make sure that you're here. A man. A suit. A pig in a suit. Buddy needs to use his Rogaine. Floor is falling out from him. A chair. It's plush. Made of real fake leather. If only I was tall enough I could reach his chair. I have a corner cubicle. I carpool to work. I vape when the camera's turned. I sweat through my chair. It's mesh, and made for my back. There'...

 Two weeks of procrastination, low mental mobility, lacklustre ideas and an insufficient amount of motivation. Painting. Hours in front of the television. Imagining scenarios for different novels. Crafting fantastic inventions of the literary genre. Discussing world politics with strangers online. Jerking off. Using the bathroom for too long. Hot shower in the morning. Hot shower in the evening. A bottle of wine on Thursday. Monday there was vodka in the freezer. Tuesday there was less. Is this it? Lorazepam prescription lasting fewer days than last month. Remembering what the inside of a dispensary smells like. Car not starting. Fishing a pair of cables out of the closet. Pack of cigarettes pulled out of the glove box. Expired last year. Didn't know they did that. Cologne to conceal it. Hands scrubbed in scalding water. Wash away my sins. Tank near empty. Gas station behind me. Palms stuck under my ass at the stop light. Frozen fog on the windshield. Ex girlfriend waved from the s...

(STG) The Dog Sequence Written by C. A. Winter      He snatched the keys from the ignition and dumped them in his jacket. His hair itched from the balaclava. In the rear view, the bay was motionless and dark. A lamppost at the end of the street stood orange and alone against a moonless night. Alan shuffled around in his backpack for something. He already had his mask over his face. “Do we need to run through it again?” Robbie asked, peering over.  “I think we’re good.” “Back door, right?” “Yeah. You care if I just,” Alan jabbed his finger up and pressed a button. The cab light shone for a second, and he reached into his bag. He turned it off as quickly as it flashed.  “Dude.” Robbie whispered. “Sorry.” He watched the bay from the mirror. It was a nice neighbourhood with nice homes filled with nice people. The kind of people that don’t expect this kind of thing. A click, pop, and clap brought him back to the car.  “Check this shit out.”  “What the hell ...

 Below is a collection of unrelated starters for stories I'm playing around with. These are just chunks- some more completed than others- from various moments in various things. They end abruptly. Sorry, but more is coming. Some of these might feel familiar, and they probably are if you've been reading along so far, however I've tightened up the ones you've read and I've edited or added more since they were last posted.  If you like any particular story or have thoughts on something, feel free to reach out. I love hearing your thoughts! Enjoy! A Collection of Moments Volume 1 By C. A. Winter (2025) Ghostwriter Somewhere deep in Southern Illinois.  His cell service dropped about fifteen minutes ago and the radio shifted from country to jumbled words to a collection of frequency bursts. He made a turn down a winding dirt road and was nearing a spiked rock formation that he’d been warned of.  You’ll see two granite spears. Count three driveways past those on the right,...