Love of Writing discussion
Monthly Short Story Contest
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January 2016 - Castle Challenge
Rule rephrase... If posting this month, you MUST vote, in order for your story to remain eligible.
Mod
Thank you, Shea, for taking January. This is going to be a fun one. I Eileen gets in on this one. Her cat stories are always so cute.
A CAT NAMED TROUBLEIt’s Sunday morning and Milly, a single mom, is trying hard to wake up her son to have breakfast together. The mass will start in two hours, so they have to hurry up a little.
As soon as Nicky finally woke up, he began looking for Trouble. No… Nick is well behaved; it’s his cat who creates havoc all the time, thus his name.
“Trouble, where are you?”
After calling the cat’s name a few times, with no answer, Nick asked his mom if she had seen Trouble since last night.
“No, honey. She is probably out in this cold weather.”
By now the boy had looked throughout the house, under beds, tables, and some other hiding places, with no luck.
“Mom, I am going out to look for Trouble. If I do not return in time, please go to church without me.”
“All right, Nick, but try to come back soon, at least before I leave.”
Having looked around the house without finding any traces of Trouble, Nick followed the trail he usually walked with his cat – a path leading to the castle on the hill. He called his cat’s name repeatedly, but there were no signs of the small creature. As he was getting ready to return home, a man came out of the castle asking him what was the matter. He introduced himself as Robert, claiming not to have seen the cat… If he found Trouble – he would take care of her until she was picked up.
Nicky returned home in time to join his mom at church. After he narrated the futile cat chase and the conversation with Robert, the castle owner, his mom promised she would visit the man Monday morning to see if she had better luck.
Milly was nicely surprised at the gentleman’s demeanor. He told her he had looked for the cat everywhere around the castle to no avail.
“Would you like to join me for coffee here? Asked Robert. It’s such a beautiful winter day… no snow as yet.”
The young woman saw no problem in joining the stranger outside; besides, Trouble may show up during the coffee break.
Robert returned minutes later with coffee and cookies. As they engaged in small talk, Milly observed how the stranger appeared anxious to change the conversation, something he finally did. To her surprise, Robert began talking about being a fugitive of the law for a crime he did not commit. But don’t all criminals say the same thing?
Hiding her consternation, Molly began listening carefully to the rest of the story. Apparently, the stranger felt relieved by telling his version to Molly.
“About three years ago, I lived in another state with my wife in a mansion by the sea. On the fateful day, we had gone for lunch to a favorite spot by a cliff overlooking the sea. After lunch, Adeline and I walked toward the border to get a closer view of a sailboat in the distance. After a brief commotion, my wife fell downhill, hitting her head with a rock, dying instantly.”
“I am so sorry to hear that, Robert.”
With tears in his eyes, the stranger finished narrating the statement he had given to the police:
“I felt someone pushing me, but - in an effort not to fall - I fought back. At the same time, while my wife was trying to get a hold of me, she lost her balance, her life ending at the foot of the hill. I had no witnesses, so all eyes were on me, including my brother in law’s, who told the detectives that I must have pushed Adeline down to get to her fortune.”
“I knew I did not stand a chance, that’s when I left the state coming to live in this castle I had just inherited from my aunt. I never transferred title to myself to avoid being traced to this property. So far, I have not heard anything about the case. I rarely go to town to buy groceries, except visiting the convenience store at night. I have no computer, TV, telephone, or even a radio, so I have lived a solitary life here ever since.”
Milly had not told Robert that she was a police detective; however, she said she wanted to help him. She needed some data to research the case on her own to see if something positive had developed. Robert agreed, he had no choice. So a worried Milly came home to begin tracking down police reports and press releases. To her surprise, the people in the sailboat had seen everything with their binoculars and contacted the police by phone and then a couple of days later in person.
The police searched the area again. As luck would have it, they found a man crying right where the assault took place. He was a stalking loner - secretly in love with Adeline. He tried to kill her husband to get her attention and love. Upon arduous questioning, the man confessed. Now there would be a change in the criminal case: Robert was no longer a suspect and the assassin was awaiting trial. When the police went looking for Robert, he was gone. The officer in charge told Molly they wanted to have Robert report to them to serve as witness.
Milly went directly to the castle where a smiling Robert was holding her son’s cat. She had been hiding from the cold - with a broken leg – now taken care of. Milly held Trouble while she told Robert the status of his case. He was ecstatic and agreed to return to his town to report to the police.
A few weeks later, Robert was knocking at Milly’s door to ask her out. After a brief courtship, one day he fell on his knees, ring in hand, and got the expected “Yes!” He then turned around and asked Nicky, “Shouldn’t we change the cat’s name to ‘Angel?’”
Mod
Thanks Glenda. Every month I try to post the story as soon as I have the guidelines; otherwise, other things take place throughout the month and then I have to rush. I guess the story could have turned out the ugly way. Nick could have met a real killer (my first thought), thus he would have been looking for trouble, and Trouble. LOL
Hello W750, Nicky, enjoyable story, good showing mixed with some telling, hahahaha. You got right to the conflict. I like the castle challenge and also received another exercise to create a sort of classic ferry tale for Valentines Day. Someone finding love on arrival at a castle is the first thing to come to mind. Will think on this and endeavor to post very, very soon. On a secondary note: I had a mini-stroke in December but rehab is beginning or continuing as it were this week at home. Balance and some numbness are mostly the result outwardly speaking. Regards,
David
David, glad to hear you'll be back with your January story? Hope so. Take care ... and it will happen. Thanks for the comment. And yes, the romantic in me had to add a ring to the story - pun intended. LOL
Great story, Mirta. Nice twist. would make a great mystery novella if you wanted to expand our the scenes.
David, welcome back. I have been praying for you. can't wait to see what you come up with.
Glenda, fantasy worlds are fun. anxious to see what they get into.
Lynette, should be a fun month. Eileen does do wonderful cat stories. love her books too.
I have thought about making it a novella, Shae. Thanks for your uplifting comments. If I did, I would place great emphasis in Robert's first love; the kiling and the effects on the husband; the killer himself. I would play a little with Trouble, etc. It would be my second mystery novella, the first one just published along with short stories in 2015.
David, glad to hear you are getting better.
Hello W750,First, thanks everyone for your thoughts and prayers! Below is my monthly story, Love At Turku Castle, 930 words. If you have a crit to offer, please do so via Facebook in a PM.
Love At Turku Castle
by David Russell
Clarence had fancied himself as a cuisine specialist in Helsinki during the 1930s. He had graduated from University with a degree in music. In his spare time he liked to play French horn with the Helsinki Symphony and chamber society orchestra. In the early 1930s Clarence opened a bakery and became famous for his dinner rolls and specialty breads. Word spread fast and palates were pleased almost as quickly once sampling his baked goods.
Then, around 1939, the country was hit with a widespread depression. Days passed, weeks slowly rolled into months, and by the end of the 1940s, other pursuits needed to be considered. The bakery was closed around 1942 and Clarence returned home to care for his aging parents. They lived in a rural town near the Finnish/Russian crossing.
In early 1950, the International Olympic Committee had decided to hold the 1952 Winter Olympics in Helsinki. It would bring money into the starved country. It would raise the spirits of the Finnish people who enjoyed simple lives at cabins near snowy landscapes. The mood was slowly brightening as the new decade seemed to hold forth hope and promise. For Clarence the olympic games would bring Kristine Kristov, a young-appearing 27-year-old Russian woman who was an outstanding skier.
As the date for the olympics approached, Clarence was in charge of a snack shop that sold specialty items to please the palate. In walked Kristine.
"Excuse me, do you have ahalf dozen rolls I can take back to the Russian ski team? We simply love them," she said smiling and her frame brightened with a red silver necklace.
Waving her hand she added, "Also, that chicken vegetable soup, those slopes are cold."
"Yes, six rolls coming up."
"I have a special carrier for the soup and today it's on me," Clarence said smiling at the athletic lady.
A couple days passed before Kristine returned once again to the shop. This time she ordered sandwiches and soup. Clarence made his wishes known directly.
"Tomorrow, Kristine, would you come back for lunch with me," Clarence warmly smiled and touched Kristine's hand as he asked for the date.
"Yes, what time?"
"Around noon. Will that fit in with your schedule?"
Kristine nodded yes, smiled and left the shop.
At noontime Kristine and Clarence went across the street to a little eatery noted for its Swedish meatballs. Kristine was wearing a gray sweater under a Down jacket and the red necklace she had worn in the shop on her first visit.
"This necklace gives me speed and confidence on the slopes. I hope to get a gold this time around instead of silver."
"You already have gold. Your personality is bright and your mood is ever charming," Clarence stated.
"Your words are as quality as your rolls," she added feeling somewhat shy.
The conversation continued about family, friends, interests and the upcoming competitions. Clarence would be attending her skiing exhibitions.
Three Months Later
"I am pleased to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Kristov. Your daughter is stunning, talented, smart, and I would like her to be my wife."
"Only under one condition," began Mr. Kristov.
"You must ride your bike 75 miles in two days to the Turku Castle. It is over 700-years-old and one of the most famous in your country. It is June 15 now. You must meet us at the castle by 12 o'clock noon on September 1 in order to marry my Kristine."
Both men shook hands on the stated agreement terms.
August 29 approached. The day was mostly sunny as Clarence tuned up his bike in readiness for the 75 mile journey to the Turku Castle. The medieval castle that would be where he would find the love of his life, Kristine Kristov. Friends and family bade him well as he set out. Kristine and her family would be waiting in the ornate castle tower.
Halfway into his ride a flock of ravens surrounded him and released their waste on him. Fecal matter was all over his clothing, bike, and even into the wheel spokes. After they passed, he walked his bike three miles to a nearby shop where the necessary repairs were made and the bike readied for its continued tour to Turku Castle.
Some miles thereafter both his tires went flat and required replacement. Fortunately, these incidents occurred in small towns that had clothing shops and bicycle repair businesses.
At about 11:30 a.m., Clarence arrived at the entry to Turku Castle. It would be a short distance to the tower where he had to climb several flights of stairs. He was determined to arrive by the agreed noontime.
Arriving on the grounds of the castle, Clarence was greeted by the Finnish guard who followed him to the top of the tower where the Kristov family waited. They arrived at 11:58 a.m., breathless but smiling widely.
"I made the journey and consider it well worth the time and hardship for your daughter's hand in marriage. May we proceed with the wedding?"
Mrs. Kristov replied, "We need to secure a different Priest. Father Lindberg just suffered a stroke and has lost his speech capacity."
Within a few hours, a new, young Priest had been secured. Father Olsen performed the wedding between Clarence and Kristeen. A reception featuring Finnish and Russian dishes occurred in the main ballroom of the castle. A string quartette performed background music for the guests who numbered close to 400. Yes, the rolls from Clarence's days as a cuisine specialist were again enjoyed by the attendees, and weeks later he opened a small bakery on the castle grounds.
David, your timeless story proves that if you want something badly, you must work hard for it. Loverly!
Hi Mirta and all,Thanks for the comment and may work it in the narrative for Clarence. Going to do some minor tweaking before sending it to the anthology source but like the castle theme for this month! Thanks!!
Mod
Wow, it got quiet in here. can you hear the crickets?
Shae, yes, that's all I have been hearing... But I am sure the 750 followers had been gathering strength after the busy season. I have a hunch they are probably busy now tapping away on the computer, and the stories will begin dropping down in a hurry to meet the January 24 (Sunday) deadline - nine days to go! Thanks for the awakening...
Hi Everyone,It feels good to be back, as I was part of the Writers 750 when it started way back in 2012 and had contributed two stories in November and December. But then I got too busy with my freelance editing work, so could not find time to write. This New Year, I decided I need to devote time to myself and start writing again.
So here goes... my story for January.
All comments are welcome.
Cora
The Curse
By Cora Bhatia
This was the worst winter that 40-year-old, Freda had ever experienced.
The biting cold had kept her caged in her little cottage, by the hillside.
Her cat Nancy, snuggled by the fireside, kept looking at her, with her pleading eyes, begging for her bowl of milk.
Freda was too cosy, cuddled into her rocking chair by the fireplace, to pay any heed to Nancy.
Silky, the grumpy parrot screeched in her cage, “Ask that stupid cat to shut the hell up…let me out of my cage and I’ll peck the eyes off that silly feline.”
Her teenaged son, Jim was unable to go to school for a week, because of the biting winter that had hit Scatcastle, in North Brooktown. Snow covered the streets and surroundings, to heights of three feet or more.
Humans and animals were both victims of this unpredictable winter. Homeless poor lay half dead in makeshift shelters, lying next to the animals that had managed to squeeze themselves there, to escape the biting unforgiving chilly winds that lay unabated.
Finally, Freda was tired of Nancy scratching her feet and the parrot screeching in the background. She lazily stood up, walked to the fridge, pulled out the carton of milk, and dragged herself into the kitchen, to heat up the milk to stop Nancy irritating her.
She would deal with Silky later. She knew a ripe guava would shut that grumpy parrot and her crazy ranting, directed at the cat.
As she looked out of the kitchen window, she saw a figure a short distance away, in a long black coat, and a hat, standing at the foot of the hill.
“Which crazy man would be out in this biting cold?” she thought skeptically.
He had a sinister air about him. He was tall and muscularly built, but was walking with a definite limp. As she stared long enough, she saw that he was bleeding. Red droplets were visible on the white snow.
“Who could this man be? Why was he out there?” a hundred thoughts crossed her mind, wondering who this half-wit of a man could be.
She switched on the TV and stood in shock—a picture of the man was glaring at her from the screen.
The news channel was reporting the escape of a prisoner, suspected of murdering his best friend’s wife.
She froze in fright.
She rushed into Jim’s room—he was busy watching a horror film, his favourite pastime on his laptop.
“Mom, what’s up…you look as if you are watching a horror movie instead of me,” he asked, surprisingly shifting his eyes from the movie to his mother.
She did not want to scare him, so she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Nothing Jim, continue watching your movie. I just wanted to ask if you were hungry.”
Her husband was away on a business trip.
She picked up the telephone to report the prisoner on the number flashing on the screen.
The line was dead.
She returned to her kitchen. The milk she had put to boil had spilled over and the vessel was burnt and messy.
She looked out of the window again—the man was limping slowly and painfully to the old deserted castle, on the top of the hill.
That castle had been deserted for years now. The rumour was rife about it being haunted and that it housed a beautiful sorceress who had been turned into a ferocious cat, by an angry wizard who once loved her, but whom she had jilted for a better and richer man.
Nobody ever dared step foot into that horrendous castle. The Ivy covered its walls, and cobwebs formed curtains that hid everything within its wicked walls.
Now, she saw the prisoner moving towards it.
“Good… now I’m safe with my son, the man will meet his fate,” she mumbled, as she relaxed.
Nancy purred louder for her bowl of milk and Silky continued with her abuses. But Freda had more on her mind than the irritating ranting of her pets.
The wind was blowing hard, the snow poured down fiercely—the man seemed oblivious to all this.
He walked into the eerie castle. The dust and the damp smells filled his nostrils—in the darkness, he heard a spooky rustling of something moving in the inner room of the castle.
He was too tired and hurt to bother about the smells or sounds. All he wanted was a place to hide and rest his tired body that was drained out with the blood he had shed.
Wearily, he slumped down on the cold chilly floor and lay on his back, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room.
Suddenly, he heard a deafening screeching sound and as he opened his eyes—he could see no more—the cat had scratched out his eyes—and got to his throat.
Justice had been done.
And as she licked the blood off his wounds—her curse was lifted.
The wicked wizard had not told her about what would lift the curse—the secret—it was the blood of another human being, who had betrayed another in love.
She changed from the fiery feared cat into the beautiful woman that she once was— though of course, a sorceress she was and would continue to be.
The prisoner and his friend’s wife had been having an illicit relationship. Later, she had a change of heart and wanted to get out of the relationship. Embittered and in a bout of fury, the man had struck at her and knocked her out cold. His anger still insatiated, he had grabbed the kitchen knife and slashed her throat.
When the cat drank the blood of the man she slayed, who had betrayed and killed another in love…
The curse was finally lifted…the new cat woman was born!
Hi Heather,I just wanted to check what is the criteria to be part of the anthology books that you bring out, as I would like my story to be part of the book you bring out.
Cora
Mod
It was mid-winter in the Arthurian Realm. Lord Eric decided to take Tristin home for the winter solstice holidays. This would give them a needed break from training Tristin as a Page and then eventually to Knighthood. The little would-be Knight of Camelot would spend time with his parents. They rode double on Eric’s steed with Pogo the gray tabby trailing behind them all the way. Tristin occasionally looked back to see the grand castle disappear from view.
Down the steep mountains they went. Soon they traversed over snow covered hills and meadows. Upon entering the Willow Forest, they caught the scent of a cooking fire. Perhaps someone was warming their home within the forest. Soon the smokey scent mingled with burning flesh. This aroused Eric’s curiosity. He followed trailing smoke to a meager cottage where cages hung from trees. Inside the cages were cats with their tales cut off to use in tea bags for the Mongrelfolk. The special brew cloaked them to look like regular men and not the ugly creatures that they were. Delrot the Mongrelfolk had a cook fire going outside of his cottage. He had a leg turning on a spit over the fire. Eric listened as Delrot sang a tune.
“Hamel the red-nosed farmer,
gonna hit him with a club.
Drag him back to my cottage,
cook him on a spit for grub!”
Delrot continued to hum his tune until he sniffed the air.
“I smell fresh meat!” he said excitedly. He stood up and whirled around. His eyes immediately caught sight of Eric. “And I didn’t even have to chase this one down.”
Eric’s eyes popped wide at the site of Delrot in his natural form. He was a massive potatoe-like monster with scant long hairs on his body. His legs were skinny; long claws hung from his fingers. His teeth were pointed and blackened.
Pogo hissed and hid behind Tristin. Delrot was much bigger than his sisters were that Pogo had fought with. The sisters met their end due to the feline attacks.
Delrot picked up a flaming piece of wood from his cook fire as he charged at Eric. The knight unsheathed his sword and cut the torch in two pieces. Delrot charged at the man who swung his blade, cutting into Delrot’s side. The monster put his hand to his side, and his eyes glanced down to see blood on his hand. Delrot roared as he charged again, punching the air with his fists as Eric artfully dodged them. Eric sliced Delrot’s legs in between the punches. Delrot knew that he was no match for this extraordinary foe. He quickly disappeared through the snow laden forest. Eric picked up some more torches from the cook fire and threw them inside the cottage. Soon the cottage was enveloped in flames.
Tristin and Eric opened the cages and set the cats free. Soon Rootspire would be populated with cats that had their tales cut off.
When They arrived at Tristin’s house, they were greeted by Hamel and Myra. Pogo and Tristin immediately began to play with the orange and white cat they called Stubby; he was rescued from Delrot’s sisters. Eric said he wanted to take a room in the village before nightfall. They bade each other farewell.
Eric had his dinner in town at the Copper Kettle Inn. He enjoyed a hearty stew and a mug of ale. The bar maid came around to top up his drink. It was then that he noticed a cloaked figure at the next table.
“New in town?” asked the female without looking at him.
“Yes, and you?” he inquired.
“I call Willow Forest home these days. I understand there was quite a scuffle there today.”
“My, but word gets around fast - unless…”
The female stood facing him with her silver flowing hair framing her face. Her eyes black as night stared at him. The air shimmered around her as she changed to her true form of a Mongrelfolk.
“Delrot sends his regards!” she screamed as she lunged at him.
But the inn keeper sent a swift arrow from a crossbow which sent the Mongrelfolk across the room. The inn keeper drawled, “I can’t stand those beasts. They all know they’re not wanted in here!”
Eric quickly paid his tab, ran out of the inn, and mounted his steed. He galloped to Tristin’s house where Delrot was creating havoc. Hamel was warding off the monster with his pitchfork as Myra and Tristin huddled behind him in a corner. Stubby and Pogo were on Delrot as they dug their claws into him. Delrot screamed and whirled in circles.
Eric swiftly dismounted with his sword in hand. He waited a split second for Delrot to face him. Eric thrust his blade into the monster’s stomach. Both felines jumped down before Delrot hit the ground. They growled with their fur puffed out as they stood raised on their toes.
“I don’t think he will be bothering you anymore,” assured the Knight.
Hamel and his family gathered around Eric to show their appreciation. After a week of holiday festivities, the Knight, the boy and his cat made the trip back to Camelot.
(866 words)
Great resurrection of past characters, Glenda! :)
Hi Glenda,Plenty of action and transformation happening. Nice.
Cannot wait to read more stories, as now only four of us have posted our stories.
I liked the other two stories by David and Mirta as well. Loved the name of the cat...Trouble!
Mod
Nice sound, Randall. Tap away... We are waiting. LOL
So far we have four stories, from David, Cora, Glenda and myself. I will be commenting on them now that I have finished going over my GRs profile, books, etc. January tales are all very different as always, but true to the guidelines. Randall and others coming up...
Hi, Cora, this is my first time for reading any of your stories. I enjoyed the tale, but would recommend you tighten up some of the narrative where you either describe a setting or the actions and expressions by another.Glenda, I like the names, Derot, Hamel and Eric. Good story too.
Hope to hear more than tap tap tap from Randall and others.
David Russell
I have always told you David, that you are tap-tap-inspirational... Five more working days next week - enough for many more stories, plus Saturday, and Sunday the 24th... the deadline. Tappity-tap you all!
My My, and everyone comes out of the wood work. Wonderful stories so far. The tradition of waiting for the last moment seems to be holding true. Great comments as well. Yes we have one more week. Sunday the 24th is coming quickly. With four great stories so far, I can't wait to see what comes next.
I've been reading along for a little while, pondering the concept of short stories, but not commenting, so not sure about just dropping a story in without having said even hello before?:)
Mod
Hello, T.K. now that you have said hello, jump on in, the short story water is fine to use a figure of speech. You have until Jan. 24.I was listening to "Performance Today" on our NPR (National Public Radio) station and they played a Tone Poem by Finnish Composer Jon or Yon "Sebalius," guessed at spelling, and thought of our castle theme. The poem was a tribute in music to the forestry in his native Finland.
Meantime, thanks to you for your encouragement!
David
Glenda wrote: "T.K., stretch your flash fiction muscles and give it a shot. Welcome to the group. Happy Monday to you all! I find myself in between jobs at the moment. I start with a new employer next Monday at a..."Thank you... and all the best to you too!
:)
David wrote: "Hello, T.K. now that you have said hello, jump on in, the short story water is fine to use a figure of speech. You have until Jan. 24."Thanks!
I'm just cruising to see how everyone put on their titles and so forth.
:)
Oops, must apply the word counter, too to get in under the limit.:D
Welcome T.K. Waiting to see your story. I will be free after tomorrow so expect to get mine it within a day or so after that.
Randall wrote: "Welcome T.K. Waiting to see your story. I will be free after tomorrow so expect to get mine it within a day or so after that."Oh! Thank you!
I'll give it a try in a few minutes then!
:)
How the Cat Found his Gadio. A short story by T.K. Naliaka ©2016 (996 count)Gadio, just ten, thin yet strong as village boys of his age are, shivered as the cool howling winds of the dust storm enveloped the world behind him, whipping at his threadbare shirt and tattered shorts. He lowered to the ground the bundle of sticks and limbs he’d been porting on his head, while shaking out the coil of cotton cloth he used to pad his head from the weight he was carrying. Quickly he stretched the thin faded cotton fabric across his face, then he twisted and wrapped the lengths around his forehead, nose and mouth and snugly tucked in the ends. Just in time; the leading edge of the storm hit him so hard he stumbled, but his makeshift turban stayed on and the single thin layer of cloth over his eyes allowed to him to see, yet kept the churning dust and sand out of this eyes.
But what was there to see? He’d ran hard when he’d glimpsed the black storm behind him darkening the horizon and had been scarcely sixty strides from the ruins when they disappeared, a maze of mud brick walls covering a slight rise that commanded the view of the surrounding plains. The sweet water well that sustained the once-mighty enclave of a chief and his warriors, family and servants had trickled dry, surely a curse brought upon the arrogant chief when he had beaten an old man for being too slow to move out of his way. Abandoned, it had stood shunned for years. Knowing that sheltering behind its crumbling walls was better than being battered by this frenzied banshee of a storm, Gadio stood in the brown fog pelted by tumbling branches and debris, unable to see it or pick his way blind across the rock-strewn scrubby ground to find it.
He sat down next to his load with his knees drawn up and his back to the pummeling wind. He’d been on his way home after a day of going far again searching for wood for his mother’s cooking fire, but this was one of the violent storms of the winter dry season that stole the day, wearying all as they huddled inside their small mud-brick homes as powdery dust obscured the paths and settled layer after layer on everything, floors, people, pots, pans, into the big platters of porridge mothers set out for the daily meal.
Amidst the shrieking of the winds, he heard an ominous low growl. He looked up. Just beyond his left foot, still and tense was a small cat with its green eyes narrowed and its ears laid back with rage, its fur a stiffened straggle of grey and brown dust on a thin frame of ribs and bones.
Alarmed, Gadio kicked out as it sprang. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed his bundle of firewood to put it between him and the furious cat. But, the cat was hissing and growling as its claws pinned a writhing serpent to the ground. It bit again, its fangs piercing deep into the small but lethal desert viper’s skull and neck. Gadio scrambled away, dragging his bundle of wood, heaving it back up to carry it, but the low branches of an old acacia tree almost pulled it off his head. Ducking to move past it, he stumbled and dropped the whole thing when his foot went into a hole. He gave up and stayed where he was, but this time he took a branch and slapped and brushed the earth around him, watchful for any vipers before he sat down in the dusty swirling gloom trembling with fright.
The storm was heavy and smothering. Startled out of his drowsing, Gadio raised his head off his forearms, looking about, but seeing nothing. He looked down and discovered the thin grey cat curled against his bare foot. He jumped up and shouted, but the cat with its belly full and round staggered only an arm’s length away to sit. After a moment, it calmly licked its paw, wiped its face and yawned.
The cat stood up and wandered back to him, ron-roning as it rubbed itself against the rough sticks of his bundle. It walked away then to the edge of his vision in that dust, then came back to him, purring some more, then walked away. It came back again. The elders always warned that cats were servants of sorcerers, never up to any good, but this little one had saved him from a deadly viper that he had not known was there, so at last he picked up his load and followed it. Like cats do, it stopped and walked back to him, then ran ahead and then came back so they slowly moved along together.
There was a shadow ahead, a doorway and he hesitated. The cat purred and wound between his feet then hopped up the old stoop and went inside. Gadio set down his bundle carefully, tiptoed to the old entry and peeked inside. The wind moaned and whistled through rooms and passageways open to the sky, but the little cat pranced and mewed and tickled its tail around him as if it was the grandest day of the year, so if this small creature was unafraid and it had already proved to him to be his able protector, then he should not be afraid, either. Gadio was also very thirsty and a cat of that kind must drink clear water to survive, so perhaps it knew something no one else did – that the well had been restored.
Later, in the deep night after the storm had roared away, unveiling the twinkling night diamonds in the heavens overhead, the clean silver moonlight shown down into the sheltered kitchen of the abandoned old fortress to show young Gadio sleeping soundly beside the bundle of wood for his mother, cozy against the night chill by a warm cat delighting in his company, curled up and ron-ron-rronning contentedly under his chin.
:)
I finally sat down to read four entertaining stories:David, you showed that in the end love conquers all.
Cora, You made sure that the curse fell on a deserving one, ending the tale with a promising new story.
Glenda, good suspense till the end... and the cats were saved!
TK, the kid's misfortune was reversed... by a feline. Nice tale that proves cats can be really good creatures.
Thanks Mirta ... yeah maybe, I will write another story based on the catwoman, who knows?David, Thanks for the feedback, will look into tightening in the next story, as this one is already posted.
Mod
I have 2 cats. The "dumb white one" as I call him did chew a snake to pieces in my back yard. The piece I found was still wiggling. I don't let my cats roam free like I used to. There are too many things that could endanger their health out there not to mention do things on other properties.
That was a fine story! I loved the cat description.
Holy smokes this month somehow got away from me. I swear it was just New Year's day. I am in the process of getting my submission written and entered. CORA! Welcome back!!! TK welcome to you as well. As Randall put it tap, tap, tap sounds for me too. Time to pull this story together. Sunday is coming quick, EEEEEK.
Hi Lynette,Thanks for the welcome. I think you are the only one from the old group, who remembers me.
Glenda wrote: "T.K., I have 2 cats. The "dumb white one" as I call him did chew a snake to pieces in my back yard. The piece I found was still wiggling. I don't let my cats roam free like I used to. There a..."
Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it!
:)
Lynette wrote: "CORA! Welcome back!!! TK welcome to you as w..."Thank you Lynette. Very nice welcome from everyone!
:)
Mirta wrote: "I finally sat down to read four entertaining stories:"
:) Thanks!
Deadline is Sunday, January 24, 2016
Stories to be posted Here.
Highlights: a castle, a cat, and a child.
Theme: change
Setting – winter
Plot – your choice
January 2016 Variations and Options
• a mountain lion saves a child in a forest near an abandoned castle in winter snow causing the villagers to see the local wildlife differently
• a space ship crashes near a metal castle and the cat pilot saves the child on board
• change of mind
• change of views
• child changes
• man changes after seeing cat
• child chases cat into castle and finds something that changes him
• future meets the past and changes the future
• castle changes into something else when child or cat goes inside
Length: 750 to 1,000 Words
Deadline: Sunday, January 24, 2016.
Voting will take place between January 25, 2016 to January 31st. Winners will be posted in this thread on February 1st.
Challenge Guidelines – Skip over this comment section if you are familiar with the Writers 750 Challenge.
Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Crime, Comedy, Romance, or a mixture (BASICALLY, anything but erotica)
Purpose -
Some fiction writers are looking to win a short story contest, keeping in touch with making deadlines, and/or simply sharpening the skill of writing fiction. The main purpose of this contest is to sharpen plot and character skills, collect your own short stories, receive good feedback, make a good connection with other writers, and take a short break from your current novel to get a fresh view when you return to it.
Rules and Directions -
* Type in English - a minimum of 750 words; a maximum of 1,000 words; no erotica, no profanity.
* Post your title, by line, and word count total in the first line of your story posting.
* Writers are responsible for their own copyright. Authors keep all rights. PRIVACY POLICY IS ENFORCED. COPYRIGHTS AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS BELONG TO INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS. THIS CONTEST DOES NOT GRANT ANY PERSON THE RIGHT OR LICENSE TO COPY OR USE OTHER STORIES. EACH STORY IS PROTECTED BY THE COPYRIGHT OF THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.
* ONE entry per person, must be writer's original work, a final revision, and a new piece of writing. Please do not delete and repost since this becomes confusing to the readers. Try to post your final revision.
Judging: The story will be judged on creativity, proper grammar, good punctuation, and overall good quality for story.
Voting: Please vote for first, second, and third place. You are not allowed to vote for yourself. If posting this month, you MUST vote for your story to remain eligible.