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April 2014 Writing prompt... with cat. - Stories
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At times when iam so very sad
feeling down
and feeling bad
i pick you up
into my arms
i know you'll
never do me harm
your fur so soft
your purr so sweet
like music with
a lazy beat
so come, my friend
and sit with me
my best buddy
content we shall be
Aw, sweet, Julia. Pets can be such a comfort.
Kaje wrote: "Aw, sweet, Julia. Pets can be such a comfort."i love my cats. i dont know what it would be like without them! most likely very boring.
Thanks To KatieThe world scares me. I can’t even step a foot outside of our apartment. It isn’t so much the people that scares me, it's the fact that the last time I was outside I wound up in a chair. It took four months of intensive physical therapy to get me out of it and another three weeks to get me off the crutches. Mom sends a tutor every day. I’m not smart and I’d never claim to be. But if I were to ever make it through the threshold I’d like to have my degree.
Whenever I want to add on to my tattoos I get my best friend Lee to do it for me. I cut my own hair. I know the way I like it. Spiked in the front and flat in the back.
At noon I sit at the bay window in the living room and watch the guy from across the street run toward central park. In the time it takes him to get back I’ve already eaten two bowls of cereal and watched an episode of Law and Order: SVU. Mom brings over groceries each time I run out and I try to stop her from convincing me to go out. Whether it’s on a date or just to the stoop, she didn’t care. As long as I was breathing real air. I was doing fine with the air I can get from my opened window.
When boynextdoor gets back he’s got his tt-shirt stuffed into one of the pockets of his running shorts. He’s glistening. The sweat practically building his form—accentuating every muscle. He checks the mail and runs another four flights of stairs to the apartment across from mine. I don’t know his name or his exact age. All I know is that each day he waves at me from his window and I wave back. And every night I dream that he’s lying in my bed by me. We don’t have sex. We just lay there. He’s looking at me with his kind blue eyes and lets me mess with his perfectly combed auburn hair.
It's as close to human contact I've had.
The next day there’s a knock at my door. It’s the super, carrying a box marked with my name on it. Emmett.
“I told you no pets,” he yells in a course voice. Those rules don’t exactly apply to him because he has two dogs and parrot that I hear singing in Spanish.
“It’s my mothers. She wanted me to take care of it for a few days.” I lie as he hands me the box. “She’ll be by tomorrow to pick it up.”
I close the door and pop open the top. The tiger colored cat tries to make climb up the sides, but can’t manage. I pick her up and find an envelope underneath her.
The cat’s name is Katie. She’s a bit of a shut-in like you. She loves to cuddle and has kicked my ass in chess a few times. I thought you could borrow her for a few days to keep you company. – Your window buddy, Toby.
I hold her and walk over to the window. Toby’s outside, stretching for his run. He looks up at me and nods for me to join him, but I simply wave no. If I don’t make it out of this apartment I’m sure I’m gonna die a virgin.
The next few days I spent them with Katie. Wondering exactly how a cat beat Toby in chess. Now only realizing he wasn’t serious. And I continue to watch Toby. Each day he invites me to join him and each time I decline. But the more I watch the sun rise and set, the more I see people walking the streets I fight with both my sides. The side that tells me being run over by a car was pure coincidence and the part that tells me it can happen again.
One wins. And I finally go to the grocery store on my own.
I check the mail and open the door. Katie dashes out by my feet and now I’m bumping into people running after her. I’d never thought I’d run again, let alone be outside. But I was and it felt like me.
I stop halfway 5th avenue.
“She’s escaped on me a few times too.” Toby pets her between her ears. She purrs softly. “I’m glad to see she finally got you out.”
“Do I have to give her back?” I ask instead of thanking him.
“How ‘bout we talk about joint custody? It’ll give me a reason to see you now. Outside of your apartment.”
We stand there in the middle of the sidewalk, talking about who was going to get her the weekends and on holidays. Then Toby asks me out and I don’t wave him away.
Horaida wrote: "Thanks To KatieThe world scares me. ..."
Oh, nice. Trust a cat to do good work by being self-centered and not listening. ;)
I hope the joint custody becomes permanent.
Horaida wrote: "Thanks To KatieThe world scares me. I can’t even step a foot outside of our apartment. It isn’t so much the people that scares me, it's the fact that the last time I was outside I wound up in a c..."
This was really sweet!!! I liked it very much!!!
Sammy Goode wrote: "Horaida wrote: "Thanks To KatieThe world scares me. I can’t even step a foot outside of our apartment. It isn’t so much the people that scares me, it's the fact that the last time I was outside I..."
Thanks Sammy
Julia, as always, superb poem. Horaida: wow, nicely done. Very nice, uplifting story.
Josée wrote: "Julia, as always, superb poem. Horaida: wow, nicely done. Very nice, uplifting story."Thanks josee. It still shocks me when people like my stories.
Horaida wrote: "Josée wrote: "Julia, as always, superb poem. Horaida: wow, nicely done. Very nice, uplifting story."Thanks josee. It still shocks me when people like my stories."
Write more, and we'll get you over the shock :)
Seriously, I think every writer feels a touch of surprise with the pleasure, on every good review.
Kaje wrote: "Horaida wrote: "Josée wrote: "Julia, as always, superb poem. Horaida: wow, nicely done. Very nice, uplifting story."Thanks josee. It still shocks me when people like my stories."
Write more, and..."
I like the feeling.
I found him out by the water. I was on my way home from school and found myself once again driving my the lake that haunted me. Parking in the lot, I'd gotten out of my car and sat on the hood watching the waves take a little more of the beach with them every time they met the sand. It's funny how something you used to love can turn into something that you can barely stand to look at anymore. Closing my eyes against the memories I breathed deep the lake-tinged air. Why couldn't it all just stop? When would the smell of wet sand and seaweed not trigger my heart to race? When I couldn't take it anymore I slid from the hood and was about to get back in the car when I saw him.
Nothing more than a dark shape in the sand I hadn't noticed him until that moment. Panic filled me as I hesitated for a second before running full tilt toward the water's edge. Black shorts and nothing else protected him from the cool spring breeze. On his stomach in the sand, the freezing water of the lake lapped at his legs. I swallowed back the bile as the memories returned full force. Another boy, much younger than this one, was lying on the sand in front of me. His lips blue, chest no longer rising and falling with the signs of life.
No. I wasn't going to let it happen again.
Kneeling in the sand I placed a shaking hand on his tattooed back and let out the breath I'd been holding. Beneath his cooled skin his lungs were working to pull in air. He was a live. Looking around, I wasn't sure what to do next. He had to get warm, but was is safe to move him? Everything I remember about unknown injuries screamed at me to leave him where he was and go back to the car for my phone and call for help. A low groan, barely audible above the wind drew my attention back to the boy in the sand. I couldn't stop my hand from reaching out and brushing dark hair from his eyes. He winced and moaned again, this time attempting to lift his head.
“Hey. Hey, shhh. You're okay.” I soothed, running my fingers over his cheek before realizing what I was doing and pulling back. In that moment my heart was racing for a completely different reason. My fingertip tingled where they'd made contact with his skin. No way would I have been brave enough to touch any of the guys from school the way I just did. Not even the out and proud guys who always gave me knowing looks as they passed me in the halls like they were just biding their time before I slipped up and made things obvious.
I watched the strange symbols inked into his skin shift with each slow breath. Tilting my head I tried to make sense of the script. It looked vaguely Asia but with less flair. My fingers itched to follow each line down his spine, over his shoulders and ask for their meaning. Curling my hands into fists I caught myself reaching out to do just that.
He moaned again, this time trying to push himself up from the sand. “Take it easy.” I helped him roll to his back. He let out a deep shuttering breath. “Does anything hurt?” I knew it was a stupid question the second the words crossed my lips. The paleness of his skins and the tight line of his lips told me as much as words would that he was feeling whatever happened to him. He nodded anyway, one tattooed arm coming up to block the afternoon sun from his eyes. His body vibrated in the sand.
“Hang on a sec I'll go get my phone and call for help.” I went to stand and was pulled back down by a surprisingly strong grip on my wrist. I looked down at the boy in the sand and nearly got lost in the fear in his dark eyes. He shook his head hard causing him to hiss in pain. “O-kay. Okay. I won't call anyone.” I don't know why I agreed so readily, he obviously needed someone to look at him and make sure he wasn't permanently damaged. I opened my mouth to tell him just that when he looked back at me and pointed to my car.
I looked between him and my car and bit my lip. No way. There was no way I was going to move a guy who was passed out in the sand across the beach without the aid of a few EMTs and a stretcher. And one of those uncomfortable neck braces. I mean, what if I broke him?
I started shaking my head trying to think of some way to convince him to go the hospital. His thumb and forefinger gripping my chin stopped my denial before I could even voice it. The pleading look in his eyes when I finally met his gaze pushed me over the edge. I swear I could almost hear him begging me to take him with me in my head.
There was a tingling at the back of my head that made me dizzy. Blinking a few times to try and clear my head I wrapped my free hand around the wrist of the hand that was still holding my chin. “Think you can stand?”
Pulling into the garage I looked over at my passengers messy dark head resting against the window and wondered once again what I was thinking.
It hadn't been easy but somehow we managed to stumble across the uneven sand to my car. He'd nearly face planted on the cement when I let go of him long enough to open the passenger side door. Wrapping my arm around his waist to lower him into the car caused all those feelings I'd become so good at hiding to rush to the surface. His wind-cooled skin against my hand, the muscles bunching as he lowered himself into the seat almost pulled a whimper from my chest. I held back only by the fear I would scare him away. And for some unknown reason the thought of him running from me was almost as terrifying as the waves lapping at the beach.
Once I'd gotten into the car and pulled onto the road the few feet of space between us started to clear my head. What had I been thinking to move him from the beach and into my car. I had to get him to the hospital and checked out. Who knew what was wrong with him. Looking over at my silent companion at the stop sign I flicked on my blinker in the direction of the hospital. His head lifted from where it rested against the seat and he looked at me with a million questions in his eyes before reaching across to me and placing a hand on my arm. We stared at each other for a moment then I was turning the wheel; away from the hospital toward home.
Shaking myself, I turned off the car and climbed out. Crossing in front I kept my eyes on the strange silent boy in the front seat. He looked like he was sleeping. Knocking gently on the window so I wouldn't scare him I waited until he lifted his head before opening the door and steadying him as he began to list to the side. “Whoa there. Come on, let's get you inside and under some blankets. Maybe then you can tell me what's going on?”
He didn't say anything just let me put my arm around his waist and half drag him inside.
“Mom? Dad? Anyone home?” When I didn't get an answer I walked the boy through the kitchen to the living room before gently lowering him to the couch. Don't know why I called out. I hadn't seen their cars in the driveway but ready to deal with all the questions my guest would raise so better safe than sorry.
I pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shaking body. “Warm?” I thought he nodded back the shudders wracking his body made it hard to be sure. “Hang on I'll make some coffee and get a couple more blankets.” I wasn't sure caffeine would be good for him but I needed the fortification.
Once I was sure the coffeemaker was running I went upstairs and grabbed the extra blanket from the end of my bed. I could've just gotten one from the linen closet but the soft blanket had always felt like a warm hug to me. For some reason I wanted to share that feeling. Placing the blanket over the afghan and tucking it under his chin I watched as the boy relaxed into the couch with a sigh.
Back in the kitchen I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard filling one to the rim and leaving room in the other for cream and sugar. I wasn't sure how he liked coffee, or if he liked coffee but I needed to do something with my hands so I wouldn't return to the living room and card my fingers through his messy hair. Taking a fortifying breath I returned to the living room and nearly dropped the mugs I was carrying.
The boy'd pushed himself up so he was reclining against the arm of the couch. On his chest, purring like a motorboat was Callie. He smiled down at the cat as she brought her nose to his and if was possible purred louder. Swallowing against the dryness in my throat I put both mugs on the coffee table.
“Sorry about her.” I made to move the cat. Seeing her so cozy with this stranger brought up feelings I really didn't want to face. It wasn't right. How could she just betray the memory of the one person who loved her most in the whole world? My wrist was grabbed once more as he silently shook his head while scratching behind Callie's ear.
“She usually doesn't like new people.” I could hear the pout in my voice as I gave in and glared at the cat as I sat on the table in front of the happy twosome. Perfectly shaped lips twitched before spreading into a full grin that made my stomach flip over and drop to my toes in the best kind of way. He ran a soothing thumb along the inside of my wrist. The skin so sensitive there his light touch made me shift on the table before tugging my arm back. Rubbing where he'd held me I lowered my gaze to the beige carpet. Ever since I figured out I liked looking at other boys more than girls I'd always been able to keep my feelings in check. But with the one guy my control went out the window. He made me want things I was afraid to face and I didn't even know his name.
I wanted to look back into his expressive eyes. I wanted to ask him the million questions running through my head. Instead focused on Callie who was now curled up sleeping the sleep of a contented feline on the guy's bare chest. Seeing her like that brought back memories I was tired of facing. I just wanted it all to stop. I needed it to.
Jamie loved you too. I was nodding before the fact the words sounded in my head registered. I looked up at the guy who now sat frozen on the couch. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
“What the?” Giving myself a mental shake I tried convincing that little voice telling me to run it wasn't possible. There was no way I just heard him in my head. That doesn't happen, I scoffed at myself. Maybe I needed to start actually sleeping at night. This is real life not some movie.
I watched him swallow before letting out a slow breath. Micah.
“Holy crap!” I was up and across the room in an instant. “Holy....holy. I just....you just...crap.”
My outburst caused Callie to lift her head and blink her green cat eyes at me before letting out a sneeze. I could have sworn she was scolding my.
“Micah, honey we're home.” My mom called from the kitchen oblivious to the impossible thing happening in the living room. “Dad and I were thinking about ordering pizza—oh, who's your friend?”
Turning, wide-eyed to her I floundered for a minute not sure what to say. Somehow I didn't think she'd believe the guy on the couch was a telepath I rescued from the beach. Heck, I didn't believe it an I could hear the guy in my head.
Jude. His voice whispered in my head.
“Uh—this is Jude.” I tried to smile. “He's, um, he's new in town.”
Oh Meredith, that was awesome!! *shivers*I so would love more! You leave me wondering and wanting to ask a million questions too! *sigh*
I totally missed that month, and the previous *sigh*
Lovely contributions as always! :)
Lovely one Meredith!! Once again, Goodreads fails with the notifications. But thank you - it's a wonderful story, and leaves me picturing what will happen next.
*wiggles* Thanks Riina and Kaje! I saw the picture and just ran with it. This is just the beginning of a much longer story I think.
Meredith wrote: "*wiggles* Thanks Riina and Kaje! I saw the picture and just ran with it. This is just the beginning of a much longer story I think."Yeah, I really want to know what happens next. It would be cool if you were inspired to write it :)
It's on my TBW list Riina ;-). Hopefully I'll have it finished in a month or so.
TOM CATS AND CASTLINGI am not really a cat person. I like them just fine and I never met a cat that I could not pet or make purr like crazy. But my heart has always belonged to big dogs. When we had to leave the farm and move to the city without our dogs, I was crushed. I could deal with the divorce; my parents parted better friends than spouses, but how could I leave my Rottweiler Lucifer behind at my grandparents'?
Adjusting to a newer, much bigger high school was no big deal. I was tall, athletic, and frankly a damn hot-looking young stud. The real adjustment was deciding to with come out finally. You did not come out as gay in a rural high school that small when you were the star of the swim team, wrestling team and the air rifle team, especially if your mom was your swim coach, your dad was your wrestling coach and your grandpa coached the rifle team. And I had one more thing in my life that should have made coming out really easy only it worked just the opposite for me: Dad.
Now it would just be Dad coaching me when wrestling season came. They swam in the spring and not the fall where we moved to but I was thinking about joining the water polo team, something my old school did not have.
When Dad came out to Mom and her family, I shocked them all by deciding to move to the city with Dad. I knew we were boy gay long before he knew he was gay or Mom ever started suspecting he was. No one in the family knew I was, except Grandma, Mom's mom. I never told her; she told me right after Dad came out to the family and my parents announced their separation.
Grandma said, "Ted, I love you, and I will miss you. And I promise to take good care of Lucifer."
"I'm not going to the city with Dad," I told her, even though that was exactly what was on my mind to do, having just been given the choice.
My parents were out of earshot, discussing the arrangements of the separation with Grandpa, so it was just Grandma and me. She said, "It's your one chance go come out yourself and have the life you were meant to have. Everything here can be yours again after you go out find yourself and the man of your dreams. But we both know you will never find him here."
So, when I moved to the city with my dad, the gay Wrestling coach and Social Science teacher, I had my own secret mission for my own "M." I even teased Grandma about being a stand in for Judi Dench in the Bond movies. Grandma told me she did not plan to take a bullet for her Secret Agent Man because part of my mission was to find the right time for me to come out.
That brought me back to the cat. Dad was a cat person. So, we had to get a cat in our new apartment. Not just any cat but a huge male orange tabby with attitude. Very few of Dad's old or new gay friends could touch, much less pet Satan; Dad picked the name after the cat earned it. Satan bit Dad's "new" boyfriend right in the meaty part of his hand when Derek went to pet the creature.
Derek was the varsity Wrestling coach at our new high school and the reason for our move at the start of the new school year. So, he was only Dad's new boyfriend in the sense that he was now officially "the" boyfriend and not just the reason my parents got a divorce.
Derek was a stud and did not even cry out from the cat bite. The walls of my dad's bedroom were not as sound-proof as he and Derek thought, so I knew perfectly well what Derek sounded like when he had a good reason to shout. The only time that was awkward, and not for me personally, was when I was skyping with Mom as I often did in the evening. I was not the one to blush when Dad gave Derek a reason to cry out. I privately kind of thought my dad was the man for making his lover react to him that way, although I never said so.
The cat bite got infected and Dad fussed over it with Derek a lot, which led to a lot of kissing and making out in front of me. And that always let to a long discussion with Dad after Derek left to make sure I was okay with seeing my father kiss another man. I did not tell him what I was really thinking in assuring him it was okay. Watching him and Derek make out was better than sneaking into his gay porn magazines.
Thankfully, Dad and I had chess to play when he insisted on talking to me about his new out status. I loved watching Football with him and Derek, but chess was a game that I shared with no one else. Sometimes, however, Satan would get so impatient to be petted by the two guys who could pet him that he jumped into the middle of the game board and ruined the game for us. That was when I missed my dog the most and liked that cat the least.
The worst part of an intact male cat in an urban apartment building was that he still wanted to wander and tom-cat about, which meant guarding the door anytime anyone came or left. Well, one day, I was running late for school, too late to leave with Dad. And of course, it was that day that Satan dodged past me and out into the long corridor lined with apartment doors every fifty or sixty feet. As luck would have it, a door opened and Satan dodged right on in. When I got to the door, a lanky young man was holding Satan in his bare, tattooed arms against his equally bare tattooed chest and the traitor cat was purring loud and happy. Then, the older teen looked up, met my gaze and I forget the cat, my name or where in the world we were. Those piercing green eyes held me transfixed.
Without really thinking, I said, "Hello, cat eyes."
The lanky hottie with the body ink grinned at me, setting off my gaydar loud and clear.
"Hello, yourself, farm boy," he returned the greeting.
"Farm boy?"
Suddenly, those gorgeous green eyes looked concerned. "I didn't mean to offend you," he said. "Everyone at school is talking about you and the fact that you lived on a farm up north somewhere before moving here. You gave me a nick name right off, so I just wanted to return the favor. Forgiven/"
"You can call me 'farm boy' any time you like, Cat Eyes," I told him. "My real name is Ted, by the way. What's yours?"
"I go by my middle name, 'Leif,'" he told me.
"Don't tell me your first name is "Green," I grinned at him, joking.
"Actually, it is," Leif told me. "Spelled with an 'e' at the end. I was born up on the north coast, past San Francisco. I'll give you three guesses what my parents grew on their farm, but the first two don't count."
Deciding to be a bit more bold myself, I said, "Well, Green Eyes, I do not smoke the weed, but you are some Greene Leif that I seriously could get into."
"We can discuss exactly how to harvest that crop on the way to school, farm boy," Leif told me, "after we get this this fat, lazy cat back to your place."
Leif handed me Satan, who looked put out to be traded off, and then Leif grabbed his backpack and a shirt. We left his apartment, waiting for him to lock his door, then walked to mine. Leif gave Satan one last little pet before I put the tom cat inside and closed the door.
As I locked it, Leif leaned in and kissed me right on the mouth and I kissed him back, sliding my free hand around his lanky frame and pulling him to me.
"Do you play chess?" I asked him after our first kiss, surprising both of us with the question.
"I do," he assured me, "although I would really like to play with your chest."
"Come over for dinner tonight," I said, "and we can give both games a try."
Leif grinned at me. "Sounds like a date. The only question now is whether you want our date to be on the down low or are you ready to come out."
I grinned at him. "Thank you for asking. Is it that obvious that I am still in the closet?"
"Obvious, no," Leif shook his head. "But every gay guy and straight girl on campus who has met you wants to be your first date. You have given no one a clue which way your gate swings romantically, until just now."
"Well," I said, "Let's keep it on the down low until we can see my dad and let him that you are my first official date at the new school. If I am coming out today, I think I owe it to my dad to start with him."
"Good choice," Leif grinned and then kissed me again.
"Kiss me again like that and you will have two tom cats purring," I told him. "But right now, we had better get to school. We are late as it is."
"No we're not," Leif told me. "I have a car in the garage downstairs and I drive pretty fast."
"You can drive fast now, Green Eyes," I told him, pausing to kiss him again, "but after school you had better take it nice and slow. I want to savor every moment of our date."
"You got it, farm boy. I plan to make you purr even louder than your cat."
That is the day that I decided that maybe I was a cat man after all.
Aw a new story! Thanks Jay D., this was real fun! :)
Oh nice - I like the humor in it and I'd love to see his dad's reaction! Great story :)
Kaje wrote: "Oh nice - I like the humor in it and I'd love to see his dad's reaction! Great story :)"Thank you for the praise. I of course stayed up too late writing, once the muse struck me. I am also curious as to how Ted's Dad will react.
Even though I pre-plan my writing. I like to be a bit Auguste Rodin about it and let the hidden story emerge from the stone as it were. Spontaneity, ironically, can be rehearsed but not planned.
Nap first, grading papers second, more story third.
Sounds like a plan - I hope the muse is inspired.
TOM CATS AND CASTLING: part 2I usually walked to school when I did not leave early enough to ride with Dad. California cities are very spread out compared to other places, so a five-minute ride to school turned into a twenty-five minute jog to get there on time. But sometimes I needed the extra few minutes of alone time without Dad to get my head around my new, urban life. And jogging was no big deal to a kid in good shape like me.
Riding to school that day with Leif had my heart-rate up and my mind busy with a whole long list of other ideas. I ended up doing much of the talking. Being gay and out was common enough at the new school, including having openly gay teachers, like my dad. What was not common was a gay teen with a gay dad. Even less so, a gay athlete with a gay dad who was also his coach.
When the inevitable question came up, my answer was brief and to the point, "Ooh, no! Next question."
Leif glanced me, put his left hand on my thing. "That will be the question once you come out, you know. When do you turn eighteen?"
I liked his hand on my thigh but not his persistence on the issue, but I answered, "About that same number of months. I turn seventeen in March. So, when do you?"
Leif looked at me a bit longer than he should have, considering he was driving and in California, but without mishap. "I turned eighteen a month ago, just before school started. That makes you jail bait."
"A year and a half age difference is easily inside California's Romeo and Juliet law," I told him.
"Romeo and Juliet, sure," Leif answered, "But Romeo and Romeo, even in California some District Attorneys can be major a-holes on that issue. But you're worth the risk."
I smiled and we both stopped talking for a moment. We had arrived at the school and it was time for me to switch from the middle to the door seat, but I did not feel like doing so. I liked being in easy reach of him and him of me. The parking lot was pretty full and not too many kids still in it. Instead of unbuckling and sliding over, I slid my right hand onto his left thigh and gave it a little squeeze.
"You sure you want to play it that way?" Leif asked me, stopping in the row of cars we had turned into. "There's no turning back, no start over if you do this."
"Shut up and just kiss me," I told him, which he readily did. We did not speak again until after he found an empty parking stall and parked his car. But we did kiss again and let hands wander over one another a bit more thoroughly.
"Do we need to wait to get out and go in?" Leif asked me, eyes down at my crotch.
"Walking will help that more than sitting here with you, Green Eyes," I assured him.
Once we were out of the car and he had locked it, I stepped to him and claimed his free hand, shifting my backpack to the other shoulder right before I did so. When Leif accepted my hand in his, he gave me that gentle warning look again, and I said, "My dad will give us late passes to our first classes."
"First class," Leif corrected me. "You and I have the same first class. I sit two rows over and behind you. You make a very nice view, I might add."
"Too bad I never noticed those gorgeous green eyes before today," I told him by way of apology for not noticing him until today when my cat introduced us.
"These gorgeous green eyes have been all over you," Leif assured me, gripping my hand in his. "You are what keeps me awake when he starts lecturing the class."
I grinned at the compliment. I knew I was good-looking but coming from him, such praise suddenly had real value. What he thought of me mattered even more than what the mirror told my own eyes. "I like the look of you, too. Body ink and all. I expect a complete tour after school and the stories that go with each one."
"Not into tattoos?" Leif asked me. "You don't have a single one."
"You are in my Weight Training class," I suddenly recalled. "There is a particular tattoo of yours we need to inspect and talk about later, as I recall."
"So, you did notice me in the showers," Leif grinned at me as if I had just complimented him. "In Spanish, I still don't know have the kids by their real names, let alone their Spanish class names."
We had just reached the school entrance when I suddenly recalled noticing Leif in class during our first few days of class. I recalled aloud, "You picked 'Diego' because Diego Rivera is your favorite Latino artist."
"You remembered me, again," Leif grinned at me, making me stop looking at anything in the school entrance and hallway, except him. "Actually, that is a lie. Rivera is obviously our teacher's favorite Mexican artist. Mine is Jesus Helguera; his Aztec Warrior paintings are as homoerotic as they are macho and masculine."
"So why did you lie?" I asked as we boldly stepped into the hallway, hand in hand, ignoring the few stares that anyone was bold enough to cast our way.
"Who wants to be known as 'Jesus' all year in Spanish Two?" Leif grinned at me. "so, why the hell did you pick 'Enrique'? You never said."
"'Let me be your hero, baby', and you'll find out," I sang to Leif in fair imitation of my very favorite male vocalist.
If people had been trying to not stare at us walking down the hall hand in hand, hearing a jock like me sing like that destroyed all pretense by everyone around us. But before anyone could say anything to either of us, Leif had me up against the lockers and his tongue in my mouth. My first thought, after giving him my tongue, was that I should have sung to him sooner. I felt empowered to sing to him a whole lot more; it could have been a scene in Glee, especially what came next.
"You two boys need to chill on that PDA in the hallway," came an all too familiar voice.
The crowd of kids around us melted and Leif stepped back. I made no move to wipe Leif's drool off my lips as I stood up straight and said, "Hello, Dad. I think you, Leif and I need to have a visit in your room."
Kaje wrote: "Ooooh, yeah. I like his confidence."Thanks. I needed in break in my homework. So, that is what the muse made me do to get my mind off of things. I like confidence in people, too.
TOM CATS AND CASTLING: part 3Dad looked at both of us, then at the knot of students gathered around us: some whispering, many more texting between glances. Just then, the passing bell rang. Dad waited until the kids around us starting moving away and toward their various first period classes. Dad looked both ways down the hall as our crowd melted to no one, and then said, "The two of you can walk me to my classroom and I'll write you passes to your first period classes. Details can wait, just tell me the headlines as we walk."
"Satan got out," I said, "and ended up in Leif's apartment. Satan took to him right away and so did I. I invited Leif over to dinner tonight. You just saw our most impassioned moment to date. And by the way, for the record, I knew I was gay before you knew you were. It was Grandma's idea that I accept your offer to live with you, so I could finally come out and meet a nice guy. So, I need to Skype her and let her know I've done both. Brief enough for you, Dad?"
"You won't feel betrayed if I phone your grandmother myself, will you?" Dad asked very, very coolly. I knew that voice from Wrestling tournaments when a critical match was a virtual tie and the least wrong move could cost our kid the match and our team a victory. It was not anger or hurt, but the clear warning that either or both were in a tug-of-war with joy and pride.
"No, Dad, I don't mind. If that makes this all easier for you, go for it," I assured him, making sure to keep eye contact with him. Inside, it was killing me to have him tell her what I was dying to, but I also needed my dad to accept my new status. "I would like it better if we could Skype her together, you and I. I really want to see her face when I tell her about Leif."
We had reached Dad's classroom door, He looked at me very thoughtfully, then finally smiled at me the way he did when on rare occasion I beat him at chess. "Talking to your grandmother can wait until after dinner if the two of you will join me for lunch. It looks like we are castling the King with the Kingside Rook."
"I guess so," I grinned back. Whatever else came our way, I knew I had my Dad on my side as long as I was also there for him. "Thanks Dad."
Leif grimaced, "Cafeteria food?"
Dad gave him a stern look; I translated the implied message to Leif, "Dad is a good cook, Leif. We don't do cafeteria food, not ever. Whatever Dad made for lunch, you will like. Trust me."
Dad did not wait for a response before opening the classroom door and walking in. Kids were mostly in their seats when the door opened, all them were seated and quiet by the time Dad got to his desk with the two of us trailing behind.
Dad no sooner sat down than a very lovely girl shot her hand up and blurted, "Mr. Cooper? Is that your son?"
"The boy without the body ink belongs to me, Cassie," Dad nodded, "and the boy with the body ink belongs to him, so you are out of luck. Kids, this is my son T.J. Cooper and his new boyfriend Green Leif Thorsen."
"You're the Hammer's son?" I blurted to Leif. Ms. Thorsen was the school's assistant principal for student discipline: the Hammer.
"Grandson," Leif shrugged with a little grin. "But hey, a little PDA in the hallway and your Dad's practically got us engaged."
Moments later, Dad handed us our hall passes and quietly said, "Consider the 'boyfriend' announcement payback for having me find out with that bit of PDA in the hallway. Once you see yourselves tongue wrestling on Twitter and InstaGram, you'll be glad I upgraded you to boyfriends. Otherwise, you would be the slutty school brats of a teacher and the Hammer. Speaking of which, I padded the time on your hall passes so that you can discreetly visit her before you go to Spanish. See you at lunch."
Once we were out in the hallway and found it deserted, Leif took my hand in his and pulled me to him. We were well past lip to lip kisses and that nest kiss took tongue wrestling to new heights. We kept it brief but not so brief that it did not affect both of us elsewhere.
"We had better ease up on the kissing at school," I told him. "It makes me want to get you naked in the worst way."
"Me, too, boyfriend," Leif teased me.
"You seeing anyone else?" I asked. "I sure am not."
"I could be," Leif shrugged, then grinned, "But I am okay with going steady here and now. I don't want some other boy deciding you are free to date him."
We took our time getting to the assistant principal's office. To our surprise, Ms. Thorsen's secretary told us the moment we presented ourselves, "Ms. Thorsen is expecting both of you and has called your Spanish teacher twice. Don't bother to knock; just open the door and go on in."
The Hammer was a fit, older woman with very short, silver hair who wore a somewhat androgynous business suit with no tie and an open collar. Her stern gaze instantly softened as she looked up to see us enter. She belied her own stern words with a smile at Leif, "The pair of you two rascals are trending on Twitter right now along with a lurid photo of you swapping spit in my hallway. Care to explain why I should not give both of you Saturday school for this?"
I said, "I lost my cat before school. Leif helped me get it back to my place and we just clicked then and there. We meant to go see my Dad before that kiss in the hallway happened. Your grandson finally gave me a reason to come out to my Dad and we sort of got too excited about the moment. Sorry."
"So, you are not boyfriends as your father just announced to his entire U.S. History class?" Ms. Thorsen asked? "That news is also treading under #NewBoyHammered. That could happen yet, you know."
"Actually, Grams, we are boyfriends," Leif told her. "Ted's Dad just recognized it before we did. At least you got to know before Ted's grandma. We are Skyping her the news after I go over for dinner."
"Then, instead of Saturday school," Ms. Thorsen told us, "the pair of you can join me and my spouse for dinner tomorrow night. No parents, just you two and us two. I will want a full report."
"That sounds dangerously like an invitation to have more to report by then, Grams," Leif teased his grandmother. "Shall we go to class, boyfriend?"
"Neither of you are going anywhere, just yet," the Hammer told us with eyes that left no room for argument. "I need both of you to agree to following school rules on public displays of affection before you go anywhere. I appreciate the power of young love more than you know, but at school, I expect the two of you to reflect well on both Ted's father and myself. If you cannot be so trusted, consequences you will not enjoy will follow. Understood?"
"No more tongue wrestling in the hall," Leif nodded. It won't happen again. But on the other hand, Grams, I expect to be able to kiss my boyfriend at will in front of you or Ted's dad behind closed doors."
Ms. Thorsen held his gaze for several seconds without blinking before she smiled and shrugged. "But not in front of my secretary or other students who happen to be present."
"Other students, of course not," Leif budged only that much and no more, "but Auntie Claire is like family as you have told me time and again."
"You are clearly mine more than your father's," she grinned at him by way of relenting. "So, go ahead and kiss him before the two of you head back to what's left of Spanish."
Leif stood up, obliged me to stand and then caught me to him and kissed me as if there was no tomorrow for either one of us. I forgot his grandmother was even in the room for a good minute or more. Then, I pulled back and told him, "Any more of that I will attack your clothes right in front of her. No disrespect to you, ma'am."
"'Grams' will do for you, in private, Ted," the Hammer told me. "Welcome to the family."
I think I will leave this story there and see what the next challenge brings.
I think that's a lovely place to stop - out and together and up for the next challenge... so to speak.Thanks for the great story!
Kaje wrote: "I think that's a lovely place to stop - out and together and up for the next challenge... so to speak.Thanks for the great story!"
Thanks to you for providing the challenge and the chance to write.
** In Felis, Veritas **
Malachi gave me the evil eye, from where he crouched on the chessboard, paws planted among the pieces. Deliberately, he lashed his tail hard enough to knock over the bishop. I winced and tried to remember where it had been. Uncle Sylvio was not one to take our long drawn-out game lightly. He said chess represented life. (A depressing thought, considering I always lost, but I had other worries now.)
“I'm sorry,” I said. I got down low on the floor to look him in his cat eyes, wondering if that would help me read his thoughts. Wondering if he still understood my words. “I didn't mean to!”
If the baleful glow of his yellow gaze meant anything, he wasn't interested in excuses.
“I'll fix it. I promise.”
The next lash of his tail flicked a pawn across the room and under the radiator.
“Soon!” I couldn't help adding, “I did real magic, though! Isn't that sick? I mean, you're a cat! Almost like a real cat, but not as cute.”
I should have expected the rake of claws down my nose. I never did know when to shut up. I sat back, pressing my hand to my face. Malachi sat up too, raised his front paw, and slowly licked those sharp claws, one by one, with his eyes fixed on me.
“Okay!” I said. “I get it. Not funny.”
Malachi growled, sounding remarkably like his human self.
He's my uncle's older apprentice, and I guess he had a cushy life, being nearly perfect and all, before my uncle decided to start teaching me too. Mal has said, more than once, that the words, “I know you'll look out for him,” probably sounded his death knell. Although he wasn't dead. Just... felinified.
“Look.” I stood up and gingerly picked Uncle Sylvio's giant grimoire back up off the floor. It was the advanced book. The one I wasn't supposed to use unsupervised, but surely I wasn't to blame if the pages had somehow fluttered open on their own to this fascinating story about a man and a satyr and a panther, and I started reading... and maybe I move my lips a bit when I read... although I certainly don't read out loud under my breath like Mal says I do... Anyway, it was just a story and Mal was there, leafing through a nature magazine, which was kind of like supervision...
Except next thing you know, the story took hold of my jaw and tongue, and I couldn't stop saying it, and then there was this whiff of smoke and pop, and... hey, presto,... felification. Not that I'm making light of it. My uncle was going to kill me. Slowly. With pain. Unless I could fix this.
I sat in an armchair with the book in my lap and started leafing through it. Looking for the, um, interesting picture that had caught my eye the first time. Clearly that story wasn't just a story.
Mal stalked over and leaped to the back of the chair, putting half his weight on the upholstery, and half on his two very sharp-tipped paws on my bare shoulders. I couldn't protest. Okay, didn't dare. I did say as evenly as I could, “Mind the spell tats. Don't want to scratch those up.” My uncle himself had done the ink on my back, full of runes of protection. Malachi's paws flexed, delicately, just barely failing to break the skin.
I took the warning and bent over the musty old book. As I flipped the pages, my eyes were caught by one illustration or another, a stray phrase, a bit of rhyme; “...make a cut with knives of glass, a space too small for ghosts to pass...” or “...combine well, and rub on the skin around the navel...” I hesitated just a bit over a picture I didn't remember, of a heroic guy in a kilt with those muscle-bound thighs they call rough-hewn or maybe brawny. I didn't have time to linger, because Mal dug his claws in enough to prick out one drop of blood. Which wasn't the kind of prick I had in mind.
“Crap, Mal! Watch the talons.” I flipped the page.
After some searching I found the original story. Mal perched further forward, craning his neck to look down at the book. I read the story over, carefully, silently. It still sounded like a typical heroic allegoric thing, with, um, some merging stuff between man and panther, not a spell. But clearly my knowledge of spells was limited.
I said, mostly to myself, “Now. We need to figure out how to reverse this thing, before Uncle Sylvio gets home.”
Cats look very odd when they nod. Like a defective bobble-head. I didn't say so though. I was learning to mind my tongue at last.
“So, most spells can be reversed by saying them backwards,” I mused. Mal nodded again. “As long as you don't mess it up, though.” Reading perfectly backward is harder than you'd think, especially with crysiace, the language of magic. It's a bitch to learn, even forwards, and the pronunciation can be affected by the word order. But I was trained for this. Well, partly trained. I tried to sound confident. “Okay, that's worth a try. What could it hurt?”
I hesitated. The last time I did this, Uncle Sylvio had set me to light a candle and then put it out. It had been such a minor slip of the tongue. You wouldn't think a syllable wrong could cut all power and light to half a city block. Right?
Malachi looked like he was remembering the same thing, because he reached down a paw to cover the last three words on the page. He cocked his head around at an odd angle to look me in the eyes. His eyes were deep yellow. They shouldn't have been. Mal has these amazing storm-grey eyes that change color when he's mad, or happy. I'd never seen them yellow. That was my fault.
I had to fix it. I picked up the book and surged to my feet, dumping Mal to the ground. He landed fine, of course. A cat was a good fit for Mal. He was so rarely off balance anyway. I looked down at the page and before he could stop me, I began declaiming the story, backward. “...l'oread canbear doshoi de im fascial cnasme Hoi... ” It was working, I could feel the power build.
Malachi crouched at my feet, hunkered close to the floor, eyes like baleful coals burning in his skull. I read faster. Backward. Perfectly. Almost.
We both heard the slip. The moment when I said, “ganeal” when the text said, “janeal. I had an instant, just enough time to mutter, “Crap.” Then the book fell and so did I. The ancient tome hit the floor with a little puff of dried-leather-and-old-parchment dust, right in front of my face. And when I painfully slid my hand out over the boards to touch it, a long, black furry paw advanced to pat the binding. My paw.
“Crap!” I said, without moving an inch. “Fucklike crapity shit.”
Malachi's striped furry face appeared, inches from my eyes. “Honestly, Dion, I have never met... hells, I've never even heard of anyone as ham-handed, half-witted, disaster-prone and just plain stupid-assed incompetent as you!”
“Hey!” I said, watching his cute pink kitty-mouth utter curses. “I can understand you!”
He bit me. Seriously! Bit me right on the nose and it hurt! I yowled and jumped back. I had the oddest desire to quickly turn away and lick my butt, although, who does that? Right? I said, “Ouch! What was that for?”
He sat down, curled his tail over his toes and glared at me. “Let me count the ways? First, you weren't supposed to touch the damned book. Second, you should never read a grimoire aloud without planning ahead. Never! Third, you turned me into a freaking alleycat. Fourth...” He got up and stalked toward me, his tail lashing with sinuous anger. “You.” One of his paws flashed out and whapped me on the head. “Got.” Whap. Other paw. “Janeal.” Whap. “Wrong! Again!”
I backed away, feeling hurt. “When did I ever...? Oh. Yeah.” Two weeks ago. That lesson on hard and soft “g” sounds. He'd gotten so frustrated with me, I'd sworn I'd study it on my own.
I backed away another step. “Sorry! Really!” I bumped my butt into something, stumbled and stepped on an ivory rook. “Ouch! Sharp corners.”
Malachi gave a cat laugh, then sobered. “Now, we need a plan of action.”
“Right.” I twisted around to lick my sore paw. “Maybe you'd better make the plan.”
“No maybe about it.” Mal came over and sniffed at my foot. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. No bleeding.” I met his eyes, so close to mine, and dropped a little of the attitude. “Sorry, Mal. Really, I didn't mean to forcibly shift you. Or me.”
He bumped my scratched and nipped nose gently. “I know. Now let me think.”
We sat side by side, and he leaned in, his shoulder against mine. In human form, Mal always kept his distance. That sleek, elegant, sexy body had never leaned up against me like this. Of course, it wasn't the same with fur on us, but I half-closed my eyes and enjoyed it anyway. I heard a little soft rumble in his throat, as he thought hard.
Since thinking isn't my best thing, I tried to help him along by rubbing my cheek against his neck. For a moment, the purr got louder, then he bumped me away. “Don't do that right now. I can't think when you touch me.” His eyes got wide, like he just realized what he'd said.
I did a smirk-face, even though I knew he didn't mean it that way. “You loooove me,” I crooned. “You waaaant me.”
He blinked hard. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You said it.”
“I did not!”
I was going to tease him some more, when I realized an odd thing about being a cat. I could hear the truth. His truth. My truth. And when I'd said that he wanted me... “Holy hells, you do want me!”
“Right now, I want you to shut up and let me think,” he said dryly.
My cat senses told me that was true too, but... “You don't hate me!”
“Hate you?” He stared at me. “Of course not. You're my spell-brother, my fellow Sylvio-sufferer. I don't hate you. I may want to smack you around sometimes.” He lashed out another swift paw-smack to my ear. “Yeah. Satisfying. But I could never hate you.”
I sat back on my haunches, out of paw-range, and watched as he crouched down again, eyes closed, brow furrowed, tail-tip twitching in little jerks. I thought about pouncing on that tail tip. Then I remembered that Uncle Sylvio was due back any time now, and I really, really didn't want to meet him in cat fur. “What now?”
“I'm thinking.”
“What about after you think?”
“I'm probably going to smack you around some more. Shut up!”
I shut.
Eventually he said, “Well, as far as I can remember, there's nothing that says a mage has to recite a spell in human form for it to work. Just that it must be recited with power.”
“I was just reading, though. I wasn't using power,” I objected. “The first time anyway.”
Mal came over to me, his head tilted to stare at me. “You are power, Dion. That's why Sylvio took you on. You're lit with it, like a bonfire. That's why he told you not to go near spells without one of us supervising.”
“I am?” I heard the truth in his words, but had a hard time believing it, cat sense or no. “Uncle Sylvio says I can't even do baby magic right.”
“Because you don't focus.” Mal rubbed his cheek on mine, his soft fur slipping past my whiskers. “Really, Dion, it's like you're playing with dynamite, all the time. You drive me crazy. You're going to kill yourself one day.”
“I don't...” I stopped, here where lying wasn't possible. “I thought he was just doing my dad a favor. Taking me off Dad's hands, so to speak.”
“No way. Sylvio petitioned to mentor you. Although you and he are like oil and water, so it might not have been smart. But if you ever settle down and apply yourself, you'll be better than either of us.”
“You have got to be kidding!” I stared at him. Uncle Sylvio was like a thunderstorm, all power and flash and noise. Mal was a blade, smooth, silent and deadly fast. I was more of a... wind-up monkey with cymbals.
Mal bumped me again, forehead to forehead. “Start believing in yourself. And take your magic seriously. How many people could work a true transformation, when they thought they were reading menage porn?”“I didn't...” I sighed. “Oh, hells. All right. I'll try to do better.”
He purred. “Maybe something good will come out of this after all. Now come on, help me flip the pages in that book. And I'm going to read it. You sit there and look sleek and sexy.”
“I what?”
“Slip of the tongue. Just sit there quietly.”
Together we turned the heavy book, and paged through it to the correct spell. Mal began reading it, backwards, every syllable perfect, smooth and clean and distinct. He read on, not speeding, not slowing. Pressure built. Then suddenly there was a release, like the world was on a rubber band, and someone just snapped it. Mal blinked, jolted, and flickered; cat, human, cat, human. Then he stood up, tugged his sweater straight, and rubbed his hands over his snug, grey slacks. “Damn. Cat hair.”
I said, “Now me.”
Mal looked down at me, and his lips tilted in an unholy grin. “What was that? I can't understand you. You say you want to stay a cat for a while? Till your uncle gets home?”
I swiped at him with razor-claws but he jumped back. “Uh, uh, uh. Be nice to me, or I won't fix you.”
Well, who needed him anyway? I turned to the book. We'd proven I could do this with a cat voice. I opened my mouth.
Suddenly long-fingered hands swooped me up, and a soft palm covered my lips. “Holy hell, Dion. I was teasing. Don't do that.” He set me in his lap on the floor and reached for the book. I cuddled in against his chest, as he began reading again. Absently, he stroked me, as the words flowed from his lips.
Shifting is an odd feeling, but at least it's over fast. One moment I was purring and getting black hair on Mal's sweater. The next moment I was curled in his lap in my jeans, with my hands in an interesting place, his palms on my bare shoulders, and his mouth in my hair. We both froze. I expected him to dump me and leap away, but he didn't. For a long minute, his hands skimmed over my upper arms, and down the protection runes on my spine. “Thank the spirits,” he said softly. “It worked. You're back.”
Then he dumped me and stood up. “You'd better put the book back and get that chess game reset, fast.”
“What do we tell Uncle Sylvio?” I asked, as I lay on the floor to dig the pawn out from under the radiator.
“The truth, of course.” Mal hesitated. “Eventually. After he has dinner. And brandy.”
I set the pieces where I thought they'd been. “Sounds like a plan.”
We both heard the front door bang open downstairs. Uncle Sylvio's footsteps thumped loudly in the entry. We looked at each other. Mal set aside the magazine he'd been reading, picked up the beginner's formulary I was supposed to have been studying, and patted the couch beside him. “We could read this together?”
“Because that won't make Uncle Sylvio suspicious,” I sneered. But, on the other hand, I'd waited months for that invitation. I hurried over and dropped down next to him, snuggling my bare skin against the softness of his sweater. “I like this.”
Mal said softly, “I do too. As long as you actually pay some attention.”
“Oh, I'm paying attention.” I turned my head to stare at the line of his jaw, so close to my eyes. “You missed four hairs shaving this morning.”
Mal sighed loudly.
From the stairs, where we could hear him ascending, Uncle Sylvio called, “So, boys, what have you been up to?”
Mal winced, hard enough to jolt me.
I said, “I know how to distract him. He'll never imagine I turned you into a cat.” And I twisted my fingers into Mal's soft, sandy hair, guided his face toward me and kissed him, as my uncle came into the room.
You know what surprised me the most? Not Uncle Sylvio's bellow of, “You call that studying?”
Not how wonderful Mal's mouth tasted.
But the fact that sexy, amazing Mal sighed again, closed his eyes, and kissed me back.
#### - end - ####
Kaje wrote: "Mal bumped me again, forehead to forehead. “Start believing in yourself. And take your magic seriously. How many people could work a true transformation, when they thought they were reading menage ..."Fun story but two installments of Mal and Dion is not enough.
I'm glad you liked it. :D But I'm a month behind with writing so you'll have to imagine the rest :) Moving on...
Kaje wrote: "I'm glad you liked it. :D But I'm a month behind with writing so you'll have to imagine the rest :) Moving on..."
What it means is That I put your book "Life Lessons" to the top of my reading list. Once I get into a writer's style, I tend to get OCD about reading more. And that is exactly what I did and got hooked on the book.
Jay D. wrote: "Kaje wrote: "I'm glad you liked it. :D But I'm a month behind with writing so you'll have to imagine the rest :) Moving on..."
What it means is That I put your book "Life Lessons" to the top of..."
A writer never minds hearing that. :D I hope you enjoy the novel too. I write Young Adult under "Kira Harp", although I only have short fiction published so far, including a free collection of some of the short stories I've written for this group. (Rainbow Briefs)
Story links: Julia
Horaida
Meredith
JayD part 1
JayD part 2
JayD part 3
Kaje