Celia Winter

June 2026 Celia Winter I'm late, dear readers, with some updates. Those updates are specifically: On May 28, Manawaker Studio's Flash Fiction Podcast released a recording of my sad tooth fairy flash piece "A Million Pennies for Hope." You can find it on Spotify, or your favorite podcasting platform. My friend Rebecca drew me this sad art inspired by my sad story isn't it pretty? As of June 1, Tea or Coffee, Stars, and Gravity, featuring "The Worst Stardrive in Paradise", is out in the world!...

May 2026 Celia Winter Sometime last summer, I dropped this into a writing chat: Have you ever thought about how plants intend for their children to be eaten as part of their lifecycle? Is this story fodder? Turns out it was, in fact, story fodder. My flash piece "Clementine grows into a tree" is available today in the fifth issue of Plott Hound magazine! The whole issue is available to purchase today; the story will be free to read online at a later date. I love this piece. It's one of my...

April 2026 Celia Winter Amandine finding Will in Time. Art commissioned from Robyn. Last summer, Flame Tree Press put out a call for a time themed Romantasy anthology. Two weeks later, this story had poured itself out of me—the tale of a wind witch who travels through time to determine what happened to the man she has fallen in love with. It was a dream to write, my characters unfurling the path ahead as they took each step. No forcing or wrestling, or struggling to figure out what I wanted...

March 2026 Celia Winter Do you ever just think about dragons? How many different ways we've dreamed them into realities over the years? A few years ago, my friend Katie started feeding a feral cat who would bring her kittens into Katie's back yard. The next year, mama cat was back with her latest batch of kittens. Same with the following year. Sometimes, I think about dragons. So on a whim, I thought, "what happens if humans are to the dragon what these feral cats are to Katie?" Thus was born...

February 2026 Celia Winter When the river’s bubbling echoes off the poplar trees, she chooses to breathe so she can fill the woods with a descant. When the river cracks and melts, she gasps with joy. Her dark hair is a wet crown she weaves with rotting birch leaves.Wool weighs her down, so she sheds it like a frog’s skin and eats it. Art commissioned from Beelz. Last year, there was a call for an erotic horror anthology. As I mulled over what to write, I remembered listening to Kitka's...