Kate Kastelberg
Bio
-cottage-core meets adventure
-revels in nature, mystery and the fantastical
-avoids baleful gaze of various eldritch terrors
-your Village Witch before it was cool
-under command of cats and owls
-let’s take a Time Machine back to the 90s
Achievements (8)
Stories (47)
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In Blue Blood, Part 2
We careened to the left and wove through mazes of gardens, music stages, hammock zones. "And this is the nursery and living quarters." The nursery was an architectural copy of the milk processing center, only much smaller and low-ceilinged--geodescent dome boards painted white and green. The rest of the living quarters were divided into sections of brightly colored yurts. "This area is for the maids. This area for the bucks. And this is where coupled pairs may have a bit of privacy," she gestured to a stand of larger, silver yurts on the periphery. "Surely you don't mean to search through all of them, do you?" She batted her eyes again.
By Kate Kastelberg 3 days ago in Fiction
In Blue Blood
The Kobold was dead. Many in the village would espouse the view that his death was hardly a cause for mourning. Funerary cloths retained their rightful place in armoires. As the news spread, second and third rounds of ale were bought, fiddles taken out of their cases to be played. Flowers were plucked and braided into all manner of hair. The din of celebration rustled songbirds in their dewy sleep amongst the tops of tallest trees. Alvy— the Kobold in question—was regarded as a nuisance at best and a terror at worst.
By Kate Kastelberg 3 days ago in Fiction
When the Trickster Leads you Home . Honorable Mention in Through the Lens Challenge.
A hallmark child of the nineties, various phases and interests piqued my interest per year, some sticking through time more than others. There were, of course, the fads that found their way more universally among my peers: pogs, Beanie babies, Tamagotchis and Lisa Frank merch. I shared in those. Then there were the other phase obsessions that found their way to seemingly me alone, for whatever reason. One of them was wolves. Wolf posters and plushies abounded in my bedroom, howling under full moons or huddling in their dens. Another was an unslackable interest in Switzerland (and the Alps, in general). A small Swiss flag sat in the cupholder at my desk, next to Rainbow Brite magnets and Lisa Frank erasers. Exactly why the interest took hold, I will never be able to say for sure, though I have a few suppositions. There were the NOVA specials on PBS I would watch with my Dad in the evenings, showcasing breathtaking landscapes, biomes, flora and fauna across the globe, some of which featured the spanning panaroma of the Alps. There was my copy of the National Geographic Society’s book on the Alps (prepared by the Special Publications Division), with its cover showcasing the snow-peaked Matterhorn mountain in all its majesty. And there was of course the movie, The Sound of Music, with Julie Andrews. One of my fondest memories of my Mom: a summer of nights making make-shift quilted forts in the living room while we ate raspberry sorbet out of the carton and watched the timeless film.
By Kate Kastelberg about a year ago in Photography
Surviving Perihelion
Telescope points up: Azimuth 263, Comet dazzles glass
By Kate Kastelberg about a year ago in Poets
Matter Meets Anti-Matter
There was only one rule: don’t open the door. She had said those words to me the first day we met. Many of the villagers were afraid of Agnes, the town midwife and healer. To me, she was my whole world. An orphan, she had taken me in as her apprentice when I, haggard and starving, first happened upon her woodland cottage so many years ago.
By Kate Kastelberg about a year ago in Horror
Nocturnal Clouds
Slipping Into Lifted Elysium: Night Covers Egress
By Kate Kastelberg about a year ago in Poets
Davy Jones: the True, Untold Story . Runner-up in Overboard Challenge.
It was one cerulean sea day that Sinbad the Sailor, Blackbeard, Grace O’Malley and Davy Jones found themselves all aboard the same ship. Yes, against all the odds of fame, fortune, time and legend, they were all on said ship together. She was a beaut though, with massive sails billowing and caving to the four winds, a deck of cypress wood that shone in the sun as if never scuffed by the likes of boots and barrels.
By Kate Kastelberg about a year ago in Fiction
