I live with shadows.
Some would call them ghosts. Some would say they are demons. They, however, are just haunted by memories of the past – the history of their lives or the yesterdays of their homes. They creep up in the night, attack when the defenses are down, and linger for as long as they are fed.
My shadows are different. They stay just out of focus, right out of reach. I catch glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye when they get lazy or caught off guard in their stalking. They constantly watch and wait. My observers intrigue me.
Are they harmless or do they bear ill intent?
Are they the ones that bring tidings of nightmares or are they the ones that slay the sleep demons?
Are they the cause of my cold spells no blanket can break or the reason my body warms as if being caressed by a lover?
I have no answers, only questions. One thing I know for sure: If the Egyptians were right about cats being the gate keepers of the underworld, then I am glad I have two. The most important question of all, then, is whether the cats are truly protecting me or biding their time to unleash their shadow minions on me. Only time will tell.
Showing posts with label NonErotica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NonErotica. Show all posts
Under the Bed
My head pounds in time with the beating in my chest, adrenaline
spiking and pumping through my veins. Silence is all I need, but the
blood thudding loudly in my ears makes me deaf to my harsh breath,
wheezing and calling to you like a beacon in the dark. My distress
signal is loud, giving away my hiding space beneath the bed; I thought
the draped sheets hid me well, but a firm grip on my ankle tells me
otherwise. I slide back, inch by inch, grasping carpet to remain wedged,
but to no avail.
The blinding sunlight streams through the window and falls across your smiling face.
"Gotcha!"
I shriek.
"Tag, Mommy, you're it!"
The blinding sunlight streams through the window and falls across your smiling face.
"Gotcha!"
I shriek.
"Tag, Mommy, you're it!"
Warning: Contents Crazy
The assignment:
Write a letter to a real company in imitation of the correspondence included in the book Letters from a Nut.... Your letter must
Mailing the letter would add a fun dimension to the assignment, but it's not required. If you do mail it and receive a reply, please, by all means, let me know!
The result:
123 Easy Street
Arlington, TX 76011
May 24, 2010
Firefly Distillery
6775 Bears Bluff Road
Wadmalow Island, SC 29487
Dear Jim and Scott,
I am a huge fan of sweet tea and when I reach for a glass of something stronger, I will only drink vodka. I find it wonderful that you guys found a way to merge my two favorite drinks into one very delicious bottle! I beam with pride as I flaunt my Southern heritage at the bar every time I order a tall glass of Firefly Sweet Tea with a twist of lemon.
As much as I love your vodka, I must ask, where do you get the fireflies? I have been all over your website but I cannot find mention of them anywhere. Do you catch wild fireflies in mason jars, like we all do as kids? Or are they purely farm-raised? As a new member of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, or PETA, I have to know! Many people do not consider insects to be animals, but they are in the animal kingdom, even though they have an exterior skeletal structure. I do so hope you use farm-raised fireflies and that they are euthanized humanely before the distilling process begins. I say this because I fear that if it is not true, then I may need to make a hard decision between remaining a loyal customer or a loyal member of PETA.
Please let me know as soon as possible; I do not like feeling as if I am betraying a part of me to enjoy my time out for drinks with friends.
Sincerely,
[signature here]
Charisse Lyn
Write a letter to a real company in imitation of the correspondence included in the book Letters from a Nut.... Your letter must
be written to an actual company
contain an oddball request
follow all requirements stated in our correspondence lesson
be your original idea and composition
Mailing the letter would add a fun dimension to the assignment, but it's not required. If you do mail it and receive a reply, please, by all means, let me know!
The result:
123 Easy Street
Arlington, TX 76011
May 24, 2010
Firefly Distillery
6775 Bears Bluff Road
Wadmalow Island, SC 29487
Dear Jim and Scott,
I am a huge fan of sweet tea and when I reach for a glass of something stronger, I will only drink vodka. I find it wonderful that you guys found a way to merge my two favorite drinks into one very delicious bottle! I beam with pride as I flaunt my Southern heritage at the bar every time I order a tall glass of Firefly Sweet Tea with a twist of lemon.
As much as I love your vodka, I must ask, where do you get the fireflies? I have been all over your website but I cannot find mention of them anywhere. Do you catch wild fireflies in mason jars, like we all do as kids? Or are they purely farm-raised? As a new member of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, or PETA, I have to know! Many people do not consider insects to be animals, but they are in the animal kingdom, even though they have an exterior skeletal structure. I do so hope you use farm-raised fireflies and that they are euthanized humanely before the distilling process begins. I say this because I fear that if it is not true, then I may need to make a hard decision between remaining a loyal customer or a loyal member of PETA.
Please let me know as soon as possible; I do not like feeling as if I am betraying a part of me to enjoy my time out for drinks with friends.
Sincerely,
[signature here]
Charisse Lyn
We're All Broken
We're all broken,
Jagged edges dulled by time,
Puzzle piece souls searching the world;
Desperate to be whole
We forego the bonds of love,
Seeking instead a sticky lust,
A liquid goo that tacks too quickly,
Crumbles around us all too soon.
Tattered clumps of temporary glue remain,
New baggage to claim,
Scars forever torn into our skin.
Jagged edges dulled by time,
Puzzle piece souls searching the world;
Desperate to be whole
We forego the bonds of love,
Seeking instead a sticky lust,
A liquid goo that tacks too quickly,
Crumbles around us all too soon.
Tattered clumps of temporary glue remain,
New baggage to claim,
Scars forever torn into our skin.
Only Mother Mourns
Morning mist clings to the waters
Grey gauze draping the haunted eyes
Death's chill paints Frost's patterns
A pale so bright white on blue
Ice bursts shatter in minute detail
Fractal portraits in memorial
Shadows play under a sunless sky
A snowflake ballet of tears rains
Frozen daggers drip from the trees
Bloodless drops fall to the ground
Lifeless lies the beggar here
Winter's victim only Mother mourns
Grey gauze draping the haunted eyes
Death's chill paints Frost's patterns
A pale so bright white on blue
Ice bursts shatter in minute detail
Fractal portraits in memorial
Shadows play under a sunless sky
A snowflake ballet of tears rains
Frozen daggers drip from the trees
Bloodless drops fall to the ground
Lifeless lies the beggar here
Winter's victim only Mother mourns
Such A Haunted Soul I Have
Such a haunted soul I have,
I call your name to the night,
But get no reply in the dark;
Were you just a dream?
I am lost without your light,
Running in circles and hitting walls,
My feet walk unknown ground;
Were you ever here?
The ghost of a memory lingers,
A fading dream as I wake,
The intangible whispers to my brain;
Were you really mine?
My sanity is questioned every day,
Reality crumbles at the edges;
Our time together gone so long,
Do I taunt you as well?
I call your name to the night,
But get no reply in the dark;
Were you just a dream?
I am lost without your light,
Running in circles and hitting walls,
My feet walk unknown ground;
Were you ever here?
The ghost of a memory lingers,
A fading dream as I wake,
The intangible whispers to my brain;
Were you really mine?
My sanity is questioned every day,
Reality crumbles at the edges;
Our time together gone so long,
Do I taunt you as well?
Our Sunset
Muted tones of muddy browns and rusted reds,
Dusk dawns across the sky,
Brilliance explodes before my eyes,
Light of the sun flickers down,
A dying flame licking low...
Close your eyes and sleep well,
Goodnight my darling, my love.
My tears fall and splash the ground;
Silence holds my hand,
A lingering ghost of you.
Dusk dawns across the sky,
Brilliance explodes before my eyes,
Light of the sun flickers down,
A dying flame licking low...
Close your eyes and sleep well,
Goodnight my darling, my love.
My tears fall and splash the ground;
Silence holds my hand,
A lingering ghost of you.
Petals On The Water
I had written this to give to a friend, but I'm not sure if this is the right time. Maybe in a few weeks or months when the grief isn't so fresh. Maybe never*. Dedicated to his love, may she rest in peace.
* I had written it before I knew she had drowned. Talk about feeling like an inconsiderate and insensitive bitch....
Like petals on the water
life drifts on by,
lazily floating yet rushing so fast
upset in one loud splash.
The gentle hand of God guides
a soft breeze lifting velvet sails,
dancing flowers by the stream,
beauty blooms young and bright.
Tender words through our bodies speak,
murmurs of love whisper by the moon;
a rose picked and finger pricked,
stained stems like jaded souls.
By the creek a is rock thrown,
the man's heart shattered with grief,
waves wash the shore at his feet,
capsizing rose petals drown in tears.
We are petals on the water
adrift in the salty liquid,
the stone has been cast,
remember me when the waves roll in.
* I had written it before I knew she had drowned. Talk about feeling like an inconsiderate and insensitive bitch....
Like petals on the water
life drifts on by,
lazily floating yet rushing so fast
upset in one loud splash.
The gentle hand of God guides
a soft breeze lifting velvet sails,
dancing flowers by the stream,
beauty blooms young and bright.
Tender words through our bodies speak,
murmurs of love whisper by the moon;
a rose picked and finger pricked,
stained stems like jaded souls.
By the creek a is rock thrown,
the man's heart shattered with grief,
waves wash the shore at his feet,
capsizing rose petals drown in tears.
We are petals on the water
adrift in the salty liquid,
the stone has been cast,
remember me when the waves roll in.
Eater of Harts
At her 'puter she sat to write
Of a long hard and dreary night,
A tale of hunger so vile and dark,
Savage beasts that leave not one mark
Save a tarnished scar deep inside,
No victim girl or boy can hide.
This she intended yet did fail,
Instead other words did assail
Her poor mind in a jumbled rage,
Protesting inside a ment'l cage,
To be written was the demand,
Released to those of the mort'l land.
This is how the Eater of Hearts
Welcomed their first Eater of Harts.
Hunger. He knew only of the emptiness deep in his belly, the pain severe enough to pull howls from between his trembling lips. There would be no moon tonight, no light by which to hunt, no light to cast shadows and spook his prey. All he had to do was wait for the sun to set.
Purples burst across the sky as pink and orange edged clouds speckled the horizon, shining with the last of the sun’s warmth. Night crept over the landscape. Cool winds awoke and stirred, bringing forth crystalline frost, which played along his breath. Time slowed, grown tired after a long day. Seconds crawled by like minutes, lazily drifting with the leaves on the breeze.
Autumn nights were cruel to the lone wolf. Twig snapping taunts echoed through the forest, alert ears shifted, but it was only the wind breaking the drying trees. He prowled the undergrowth, silent paws leaving little mark on the rough path. The scent of deer filled his flared nostrils, but from where, he could not be certain. Seeping up through the dirt, the smell seemed to be all around. The thudding of his heart belied his excitement at finding some form of trail. It beat loud, close under his skin. Soft vibrations pushed against fur, over his paws, and into the ground.
No, not into the ground, the reverberations came up from the ground. He crouched low, void belly brushing the carpet of powdered detriment and leaves. He lifted his head. Ears twisted and turned, focused in their natural radar habit, and pinpointed the direction of the single animal running.
Closer and closer the deer clopped as his thundering hooves pounded the solid earth. Amber eyes glittered in the dark as the wolf watched, waiting to see the creature he hunted.
Mist gathered along the floor of the forest. It rolled in as the waves wash against the shore, small roils followed by subsequently larger, preceding the deer’s advance. Between thick trunks, the animal emerged, distant and small. It zigzagged forward, effortlessly snaking through the maze, growing larger by the second. The wolf stalled, momentarily taken aback. Long antlers sprang from the head of the deer, silhouetted by the glow of the body. A white hart danced before the wolf.
It is ill-luck to kill one of nature’s emissaries, but the wolf was weeks without food. His only thoughts emanated from his starved core; instinct overrode ingrained teachings and he lunged.
He growled in pleasure as his fangs sank deep in the thick furred neck. Crimson blood poured black in the moonless night; the dark liquid dribbled down the hart’s body and slid sizzling hot down the wolf’s throat. A quick twist of his body snapped the deer’s neck and together they fell into the brush.
The wolf stood and howled his delight. His muzzle buried deep in the dying light of the white flesh as he dug and tore at the corpse before him. He ate until his stomach could hold no more and then turned his attention to the piece he saved for last. He nuzzled aside the remnants of the ribcage and gingerly picked out the keeper of life. With reverence, he lapped away the blood from his prize. Dessert was his favorite part of any meal and he could think of nothing more delicious than the heart of a hart.
Sweet meat drenched his tongue and filled his mouth. He swallowed, savoring the flavor that clung to his canines. Halfway down, however, it lodged.
On a dark, moonless night near the end of autumn, a lone wolf slept, his stomach full and his lungs empty.
Of a long hard and dreary night,
A tale of hunger so vile and dark,
Savage beasts that leave not one mark
Save a tarnished scar deep inside,
No victim girl or boy can hide.
This she intended yet did fail,
Instead other words did assail
Her poor mind in a jumbled rage,
Protesting inside a ment'l cage,
To be written was the demand,
Released to those of the mort'l land.
This is how the Eater of Hearts
Welcomed their first Eater of Harts.
Hunger. He knew only of the emptiness deep in his belly, the pain severe enough to pull howls from between his trembling lips. There would be no moon tonight, no light by which to hunt, no light to cast shadows and spook his prey. All he had to do was wait for the sun to set.
Purples burst across the sky as pink and orange edged clouds speckled the horizon, shining with the last of the sun’s warmth. Night crept over the landscape. Cool winds awoke and stirred, bringing forth crystalline frost, which played along his breath. Time slowed, grown tired after a long day. Seconds crawled by like minutes, lazily drifting with the leaves on the breeze.
Autumn nights were cruel to the lone wolf. Twig snapping taunts echoed through the forest, alert ears shifted, but it was only the wind breaking the drying trees. He prowled the undergrowth, silent paws leaving little mark on the rough path. The scent of deer filled his flared nostrils, but from where, he could not be certain. Seeping up through the dirt, the smell seemed to be all around. The thudding of his heart belied his excitement at finding some form of trail. It beat loud, close under his skin. Soft vibrations pushed against fur, over his paws, and into the ground.
No, not into the ground, the reverberations came up from the ground. He crouched low, void belly brushing the carpet of powdered detriment and leaves. He lifted his head. Ears twisted and turned, focused in their natural radar habit, and pinpointed the direction of the single animal running.
Closer and closer the deer clopped as his thundering hooves pounded the solid earth. Amber eyes glittered in the dark as the wolf watched, waiting to see the creature he hunted.
Mist gathered along the floor of the forest. It rolled in as the waves wash against the shore, small roils followed by subsequently larger, preceding the deer’s advance. Between thick trunks, the animal emerged, distant and small. It zigzagged forward, effortlessly snaking through the maze, growing larger by the second. The wolf stalled, momentarily taken aback. Long antlers sprang from the head of the deer, silhouetted by the glow of the body. A white hart danced before the wolf.
It is ill-luck to kill one of nature’s emissaries, but the wolf was weeks without food. His only thoughts emanated from his starved core; instinct overrode ingrained teachings and he lunged.
He growled in pleasure as his fangs sank deep in the thick furred neck. Crimson blood poured black in the moonless night; the dark liquid dribbled down the hart’s body and slid sizzling hot down the wolf’s throat. A quick twist of his body snapped the deer’s neck and together they fell into the brush.
The wolf stood and howled his delight. His muzzle buried deep in the dying light of the white flesh as he dug and tore at the corpse before him. He ate until his stomach could hold no more and then turned his attention to the piece he saved for last. He nuzzled aside the remnants of the ribcage and gingerly picked out the keeper of life. With reverence, he lapped away the blood from his prize. Dessert was his favorite part of any meal and he could think of nothing more delicious than the heart of a hart.
Sweet meat drenched his tongue and filled his mouth. He swallowed, savoring the flavor that clung to his canines. Halfway down, however, it lodged.
On a dark, moonless night near the end of autumn, a lone wolf slept, his stomach full and his lungs empty.
Sugar High
Giddy giggling,
near obscene reaction
to the events at hand.
We are lost.
GPS guides us home,
not without amusement.
"We are the arrow."
"We are Pac Man!
...walking backwards..."
"Moon walking!"
"Wakka wakka wakka"
"Wah-Keehee!"
Dead silence.
Pac Man has no hands,
no arms,
I am told.
Backwards munching,
our marker continues,
green lights feeding our play.
"We have it wrong."
Do we?
My curiosity is piqued again.
"Backwards walking,
we are playing in reverse!"
"We must rewind!"
"Akkaw Akkaw Akkaw"
If any others saw us
at the red light we approached,
they would swear we were high.
Maybe they would be right:
We were two long-time girlfriends
riding a sugar high.
near obscene reaction
to the events at hand.
We are lost.
GPS guides us home,
not without amusement.
"We are the arrow."
"We are Pac Man!
...walking backwards..."
"Moon walking!"
"Wakka wakka wakka"
"Wah-Keehee!"
Dead silence.
Pac Man has no hands,
no arms,
I am told.
Backwards munching,
our marker continues,
green lights feeding our play.
"We have it wrong."
Do we?
My curiosity is piqued again.
"Backwards walking,
we are playing in reverse!"
"We must rewind!"
"Akkaw Akkaw Akkaw"
If any others saw us
at the red light we approached,
they would swear we were high.
Maybe they would be right:
We were two long-time girlfriends
riding a sugar high.
Tales Of Miss Doom - Leaving For Vacation
There was much traffic up and down the stairs; pounding footfalls refused to let the sleeping cat sleep. Little calico tabby ears flicked constantly, shooing away the thump of each step.
After ten minutes of fitful rest, Miss Doom lifted her head to investigate the commotion. Set to voice her displeasure, she opened her mouth and eyes simultaneously, only to freeze, stock still, at the sight before her eyes: her humans were carrying travel bags and pillows down to the front door.
Instantly awake, her fur fluffed as she flew off the couch, jumping immediately atop the first bag she could reach. It was not luck that it happened to still be open - it was her pet's habit to finalize his packing moments before walking out the door.
Into the open bag she crawled, squeezing effortlessly between a stack of shirts and a pair of rolled jeans. With ill-hid anger, she glared at her pet and his mate as they came down the stairs again. The girl came first and, predictably, made a soothing noise at Miss Doom.
Frustrated that advances in science fell short of translating human sounds into recognizable speech patterns, she flicked her tail and flattened her ears. As the two bent near, she jumped and hissed, "This is NOT acceptable! You are NOT allowed to leave!"
Unable to suppress her anger, and afraid she would lash out and strike her precious pets, Miss Doom ran quickly behind the nearest piece of furniture to sulk. She turned her back on her humans as the front door opened, closed, and the lock clicked.
She did not fear they would run away, nor did she worry for their safety; simply, she disliked being left behind and missed the added warmth in the bed at night.
As the sounds of their engine died into the distance, she crept out of her hiding spot and slunk off to the kitchen to drown her problems with a smidge of hidden cream.
After ten minutes of fitful rest, Miss Doom lifted her head to investigate the commotion. Set to voice her displeasure, she opened her mouth and eyes simultaneously, only to freeze, stock still, at the sight before her eyes: her humans were carrying travel bags and pillows down to the front door.
Instantly awake, her fur fluffed as she flew off the couch, jumping immediately atop the first bag she could reach. It was not luck that it happened to still be open - it was her pet's habit to finalize his packing moments before walking out the door.
Into the open bag she crawled, squeezing effortlessly between a stack of shirts and a pair of rolled jeans. With ill-hid anger, she glared at her pet and his mate as they came down the stairs again. The girl came first and, predictably, made a soothing noise at Miss Doom.
Frustrated that advances in science fell short of translating human sounds into recognizable speech patterns, she flicked her tail and flattened her ears. As the two bent near, she jumped and hissed, "This is NOT acceptable! You are NOT allowed to leave!"
Unable to suppress her anger, and afraid she would lash out and strike her precious pets, Miss Doom ran quickly behind the nearest piece of furniture to sulk. She turned her back on her humans as the front door opened, closed, and the lock clicked.
She did not fear they would run away, nor did she worry for their safety; simply, she disliked being left behind and missed the added warmth in the bed at night.
As the sounds of their engine died into the distance, she crept out of her hiding spot and slunk off to the kitchen to drown her problems with a smidge of hidden cream.
It Is More Than War
I see his face in every man I meet,
His vision even haunts my nightly sleep.
In agony I remember his touch,
My heart breaks again - I loved him so much!
I damn this world so cruel and vain,
Damn everyone that caused me such pain.
A visionary
A prophet
A martyr
The war has begun.
Just a simple man
A husband
A father
Duty calls to him.
Pride welled inside the day he enlisted,
Fear of this day my only dread;
I swallowed hard to show no fear,
And in privacy shed my only tear
Before marching at his side to the dock
Where flags raise and the iron beasts flock.
A soldier
An army
A cause
The war rages on.
For the pride of our land
A country
A nation
For vengeance we fight
A year or more our country he would defend,
Along the front lines never to bow or bend;
But in the desolate desert sand so vast,
His training could not defend from a final blast.
The evil of greedy men cannot be undone,
And for their profit I now stand alone.
An atrocity
A crime
A death
This war cannot be won.
Once just a proud woman
A wife
A mother
I am now a military widow.
His vision even haunts my nightly sleep.
In agony I remember his touch,
My heart breaks again - I loved him so much!
I damn this world so cruel and vain,
Damn everyone that caused me such pain.
A visionary
A prophet
A martyr
The war has begun.
Just a simple man
A husband
A father
Duty calls to him.
Pride welled inside the day he enlisted,
Fear of this day my only dread;
I swallowed hard to show no fear,
And in privacy shed my only tear
Before marching at his side to the dock
Where flags raise and the iron beasts flock.
A soldier
An army
A cause
The war rages on.
For the pride of our land
A country
A nation
For vengeance we fight
A year or more our country he would defend,
Along the front lines never to bow or bend;
But in the desolate desert sand so vast,
His training could not defend from a final blast.
The evil of greedy men cannot be undone,
And for their profit I now stand alone.
An atrocity
A crime
A death
This war cannot be won.
Once just a proud woman
A wife
A mother
I am now a military widow.
Tales Of Miss Doom - The Ward
He awoke sometime in the mid-morning. He had scarfed down breakfast, ate until some kibble came back up, then gorged on more. Miss Doom trained her humans well, he thought, They leave me plenty of food. But as he sat staring at the self-refilling gravity feeder, he realized he was no longer hungry. Instead, he was bored. It was a boredom so deep that the thought of more kibble did not quell his idle mind.
He sat back on his haunches and studied his paw. Grey fur filled his face, blinding him to the mess of kibble-explosion on the floor. Hmm, clean. No bath needed. But what to do? He questioned himself, pondering all the activities he did daily. Eating had lost its luster, bathing was a chore for his eighteen pounds of fluff, he had no desire to dig his favorite ball from under the couch, and the male human was not home to attack. His options were limited. Then he had a mischievous spark and smirked.
Miss Doom lay curled atop a piece of partly shredded paper. She was not asleep, merely thinking, envisioning her thoughts as reality. The house was quiet, perfect for a bit of relaxing contemplation. Her eyes drifted to the holes and shreds in the paper, her code tapped out by tooth and fang. It was only a rough draft, the fourth revision this week. She found a flaw, not in the words, but in the plan itself. She sighed as she sat up, her tail wrapping around her legs.
He crouched, watching her back. He rolled his shoulders and twitched his tail, silent. Today is the day, he told himself as he braced for launch. This would not be the first attempt at a sneak attack, but it would also not be the first successful surprise attack, either. As a cat, he had stealth, but he was young and still needed practice with surprise. Twice last week he had caught her off guard. She had not been as thrilled as he, but he did not let that deter him from trying again.
He released the air from his lungs, cleared his mind, and jumped...
...right into her swinging tail. She had spun so quickly he had no chance to escape landing on her paper after a harsh tail thrashing. Her teeth sank into his ear as he skid by, stopping only when his bulky weight slammed into the back cushion of the couch.
Children! she shrieked internally. They ruin everything and make it so difficult to plan world domination!
Aloud, she chided him on his poor timing and even poorer placement. Her soft voice rang clear, "Sampson! If you had bothered to bathe, or at least decided to stand downwind, then you might have had a better shot." Her tail thumped the couch, the only visible indication of her annoyance.
The overlarge juvenile kitten bowed before her was not her offspring; somewhere along the way, after adopting her human and allowing him a mate, she somehow managed to find herself in charge of a stray puffball. She remembered what it was like to be orphaned and let him stay, although after attempting to train him, she was beginning to give up on having an able apprentice. This thought flitted through her mind once more, turning her stern visage into that of a disappointed teacher.
He cowed, mewled his apologies, and slunk off to his hiding space beneath the bed, presumably to bathe and sulk. She looked down at her paper once more and her frown deepened. Such potential, and yet such destructive tendencies. She pushed her ruined notes onto the floor, her mood spoiled for plotting to take over the world.
He sat back on his haunches and studied his paw. Grey fur filled his face, blinding him to the mess of kibble-explosion on the floor. Hmm, clean. No bath needed. But what to do? He questioned himself, pondering all the activities he did daily. Eating had lost its luster, bathing was a chore for his eighteen pounds of fluff, he had no desire to dig his favorite ball from under the couch, and the male human was not home to attack. His options were limited. Then he had a mischievous spark and smirked.
Miss Doom lay curled atop a piece of partly shredded paper. She was not asleep, merely thinking, envisioning her thoughts as reality. The house was quiet, perfect for a bit of relaxing contemplation. Her eyes drifted to the holes and shreds in the paper, her code tapped out by tooth and fang. It was only a rough draft, the fourth revision this week. She found a flaw, not in the words, but in the plan itself. She sighed as she sat up, her tail wrapping around her legs.
He crouched, watching her back. He rolled his shoulders and twitched his tail, silent. Today is the day, he told himself as he braced for launch. This would not be the first attempt at a sneak attack, but it would also not be the first successful surprise attack, either. As a cat, he had stealth, but he was young and still needed practice with surprise. Twice last week he had caught her off guard. She had not been as thrilled as he, but he did not let that deter him from trying again.
He released the air from his lungs, cleared his mind, and jumped...
...right into her swinging tail. She had spun so quickly he had no chance to escape landing on her paper after a harsh tail thrashing. Her teeth sank into his ear as he skid by, stopping only when his bulky weight slammed into the back cushion of the couch.
Children! she shrieked internally. They ruin everything and make it so difficult to plan world domination!
Aloud, she chided him on his poor timing and even poorer placement. Her soft voice rang clear, "Sampson! If you had bothered to bathe, or at least decided to stand downwind, then you might have had a better shot." Her tail thumped the couch, the only visible indication of her annoyance.
The overlarge juvenile kitten bowed before her was not her offspring; somewhere along the way, after adopting her human and allowing him a mate, she somehow managed to find herself in charge of a stray puffball. She remembered what it was like to be orphaned and let him stay, although after attempting to train him, she was beginning to give up on having an able apprentice. This thought flitted through her mind once more, turning her stern visage into that of a disappointed teacher.
He cowed, mewled his apologies, and slunk off to his hiding space beneath the bed, presumably to bathe and sulk. She looked down at her paper once more and her frown deepened. Such potential, and yet such destructive tendencies. She pushed her ruined notes onto the floor, her mood spoiled for plotting to take over the world.
Tales Of Miss Doom - Chasing The Sun
She awoke when the first bird chirped in the predawn glow. After wondering if it would be worth a fruitless hunt to find the critter, she unfurled herself and stretched. The bedroom was still dark and the pillow was cozy and warm. But it was losing warmth now that fresh air had settled between her belly and the blanket; it was time to chase the sun.
Silently she jumped from the bed, landing into a slow sauntering gait down a path leading to the open bedroom door. She yawned as she walked, sparing no time to chance a stop.
The bird chirped louder as more birds awoke to answer his call. If I could find them... she thought to herself as she began her descent down the single flight of stairs. Oh, who am I kidding? I like their warnings of the approaching light!
At the bottom step, she looked around. The room was brighter, but the sun had yet to reach the window. Yes, plenty of time to enjoy breakfast, she thought, pleased. She glanced around once more, watching for any other creatures that might be present, and, upon finding none, she darted past the couch, down the hall, and out into the garage. She slipped past the sleeping mice and stepped into a box.
Less than a minute later she was scraping litter, Not bad, almost a new record. Note to self: less water before bed. I don't need to waste more time before the sun shines down. With the last push of her paw, she returned down the hall, but turned into the kitchen. Her food remained where she had left it, and was even undisturbed. She smiled as she started to nibble, I should really give those grey things a treat. They make wonderful pets when trained properly.
The chittering outside the window grew louder as she sat eating. She flattened her ears to dampen the annoyance, but could not completely ignore the incessant noise. She took a long drink of water to wash down her Kitty Kibble and lifted her head to the back door window. Her entire back yard was full of birds, some small, some large, and many different sizes in between. She huffed and her tail swatted back and forth. They speak gibberish! At least those grey things can be taught to speak! More fluttered down from the trees and landed in the shadows of the fence.
Shadows of the fence? That means.... She turned toward the living room and her large comfortable couch. THERE! YES! Above the couch, a few feet up the wall, was the bright spot that promised warmth. Quick calculations indicated it would meet the couch at a slight ten-degree angle, counter-clockwise from its current position. She jumped up onto the back of the couch in the exact location she predicted the sunlight to land and stretched out to achieve the maximum potential of the free heat.
Her math was correct and the sun landed directly across her midsection, fanning outward the proportional dimensions of the east facing window. She closed her eyes, smiling, and napped.
As with every sun-filled day, she spent the rest of the morning rolling with the sun, basking in the warm light.
Silently she jumped from the bed, landing into a slow sauntering gait down a path leading to the open bedroom door. She yawned as she walked, sparing no time to chance a stop.
The bird chirped louder as more birds awoke to answer his call. If I could find them... she thought to herself as she began her descent down the single flight of stairs. Oh, who am I kidding? I like their warnings of the approaching light!
At the bottom step, she looked around. The room was brighter, but the sun had yet to reach the window. Yes, plenty of time to enjoy breakfast, she thought, pleased. She glanced around once more, watching for any other creatures that might be present, and, upon finding none, she darted past the couch, down the hall, and out into the garage. She slipped past the sleeping mice and stepped into a box.
Less than a minute later she was scraping litter, Not bad, almost a new record. Note to self: less water before bed. I don't need to waste more time before the sun shines down. With the last push of her paw, she returned down the hall, but turned into the kitchen. Her food remained where she had left it, and was even undisturbed. She smiled as she started to nibble, I should really give those grey things a treat. They make wonderful pets when trained properly.
The chittering outside the window grew louder as she sat eating. She flattened her ears to dampen the annoyance, but could not completely ignore the incessant noise. She took a long drink of water to wash down her Kitty Kibble and lifted her head to the back door window. Her entire back yard was full of birds, some small, some large, and many different sizes in between. She huffed and her tail swatted back and forth. They speak gibberish! At least those grey things can be taught to speak! More fluttered down from the trees and landed in the shadows of the fence.
Shadows of the fence? That means.... She turned toward the living room and her large comfortable couch. THERE! YES! Above the couch, a few feet up the wall, was the bright spot that promised warmth. Quick calculations indicated it would meet the couch at a slight ten-degree angle, counter-clockwise from its current position. She jumped up onto the back of the couch in the exact location she predicted the sunlight to land and stretched out to achieve the maximum potential of the free heat.
Her math was correct and the sun landed directly across her midsection, fanning outward the proportional dimensions of the east facing window. She closed her eyes, smiling, and napped.
As with every sun-filled day, she spent the rest of the morning rolling with the sun, basking in the warm light.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
