Clearly, I made some bad choices this week. The one that affects you is that I didn’t make enough time to write every day. I must work on this. In the meantime, here are a few pieces to whet your appetite.
Day 12: The Find
Swift fingers tapped out the words. Right pinky slammed the return key. The wait for answers took seconds, thankfully. Someone once said to choose the third response, so she clicked on it as she released bated breath.
“Now I’ll know,” she whispered as an image loaded, followed by text.
Tears filled her eyes, pouring down to caress upturned lips as unfamiliar eyes peer back at her from the screen.
“It wasn’t him. Thank goodness.”
Day 13: Halfway
A face gazed back at the viewer with one lovely eye. The other eye existed but only as faint charcoal outlines. The nose took form weeks ago, yet the lips with their alluring smile awaited the artist’s steady hand until today.
He stood back from his aspiring masterpiece. Should those lips be full of thin? How could he best show that hint of sadness at the corners of both lips and eyes?
“Cruel muse, show your face,” he whispered, drawing closer with a nub of charcoal.
He gasped as an image appeared over his drawing. But he didn’t waste a moment in carefully retracing each of its lines.
“Gracious muse,” he mumbled again and again as the charcoal drawing took shape under his frenzied fingers, followed by layers of paint.
A woman’s soft laughter flooded the room with traces of malice hidden behind its amused strains. But the artist, entranced by his work, noticed neither.
Day 14: Know Me?
They dare to call me villain? I’m just trying to put smiles on peoples faces. I do a great job of it until he comes along. And here he comes again with his leather-clad pecs and six pack to turn my smile into a frown.
The joke’s on him. I wanted him here. And here he stands. He flapped down on his tiny bat wings to save the day by succumbing to my genius. He lands more nimbly than normal and stands tall to throw back his cape. The silhouette doesn’t match expectations. The height only matched because of impossibly high heels that stop at slender shapely legs. I gape at the familiar curves in confusion and distraction.
“Sorry, Joker,” she purrs, “You got cat instead of bat, claws instead of chin.”
I shrug and feel my smile grow by degrees, “I think I might enjoy this trade off.”
To prove my statement invalid, she launches herself at me with a hiss.
Day 15: Signs
“What did that say?” Sierra mumbled as she zoomed past a road sign too fast to read its contents in the dull glow of her headlights.
As she had refused to allow anyone else to join her on this trip, no one replied to her query.
“Probably wasn’t anything important,” she reassured herself. “I hate those electronic signs anyway. Eventually, half the bulbs burn out and no one checks them…”
Her voice trailed off as her empty car continued to provide zero feedback. About ten miles further along the road, a huge barrier blocked her progress. A haphazardly hung detour sign pointed her to a narrow exit to her right. The road grew unbelievably narrow until long grass and tree branches scraped the side of her car.
She breathed out as the road widened again only to gasp and hold that breath in as her headlights revealed a derelict parking lot. Cars of varying ages faced another barrier, this one of clay and earth and fallen trees. People as varied as the cars peered out at her from the darkness. Some hunkered down in lean-tos fashioned by their cars. Others watched warily from behind dusty windows.
She slowed down and pulled into an empty spot. After taking a few more deep breaths to steel herself, she stepped out of the car. She surveyed the dimly lit faces but none seemed more or less friendly than the others, so she addressed those nearest her.
“What’s going on here?”
At first, no one answered. Sierra let her eyes wander again. She tried to keep it casual, but anyone could guess her pale eyes sought egress. The road behind her revealed the spikes that let you drive in one direction without blowing out your tires, but no other roads lead away from this place. All she could see were fellow lost souls and the barrier that looked as if it might fall apart and bury this desolate spot at any moment.
As if giving her time to assess her situation before responding, a sturdy woman in worn flannel and more dilapidated jeans stepped forward, “you should have regarded the sign.”
Startled by the woman’s stilted way of speaking, Sierra stepped back. She brushed up against another woman who had approached on cat paws from behind. As she turned to keep an eye on as many people as possible, this one grinned and brushed straight blonde hair back from her face, “Too late for that now. She missed the sign like all of us.”
“But what did it say?” Sierra still wanted answers.
“How should we know?”
“We didn’t read it.”
“Surely, it would have led us somewhere other than this…”
“Dead End.”
A few voices echoed that sentiment as did Sierra’s heart.
Day 16: Last Born
“Last born,” the old creature whispered, his raspy death rattle barely audible, “You must listen.”
The younger creature stepped forward, youthful scales catching the light as his mentor’s had not done in centuries. He placed his strong claws gently over the wizened hooks of his predecessor and waited.
“I’m sorry we did not leave much of a future for you,” he stopped to cough.
The young one’s head bowed lower avoiding the seeking, rheumy eyes, “It is what it is.”
The old one smiled at this this repetition of his own words, “This is a world of mammals now. You must try to guide them in wisdom.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you cannot keep them progressing, they will share our fate.”
They both bowed their heads, grieving the world’s loss. The old one’s final death rattle rocked the walls of the cave, causing mini cascades of debris. Still the young one lingered. The moment he walked away, he would have to accept that he now stood truly alone and unique in all the world.
Day 17: Unlikely Team
“Something’s fishy,” Mutt’s laughter sounded just like excited panting.
Stray narrowed her already slanted eyes and leaned over to gently preen her shoulder before responding, “He will tonight.”
Mutt stared at her, no comprehension entering his warm brown eyes. He continued to pant gleefully as if in on the joke.
“Because tonight, Rodent sleeps with the fishes,” even this didn’t light the canine’s bulb.
Stray rolled her eyes and stalked off to lick herself in a patch of sunlight and formulate a plan.
She couldn’t act on her brilliant planning until later that evening. The female master came in and offered obeisance to Mutt and Stray before settling down with a snack. When she finished, she proceeded to her new routine of showing love to Rodent. This behavior had gone on too long. Stray feigned indifference to the love that had once been showered upon her so freely, but losing it to food rubbed her in all the wrong ways.
The slits of Stray’s eyes widened imperceptibly as female master smooched on Rodent while cradling him in one hand. She cooed over him in a voice she used to reserve for the exalted feline. Said exalted feline slowly rose and stretched languidly. After stretching to her full length and bouncing back like a fresh rubber band, she casually approached the human who had begun dancing with the tiniest fur ball in the house. She wrapped around master’s ankles just right and she tripped.
“Now,” Stray hissed as Rodent fell into the aquarium with a satisfying plop.
Mutt lifted his head from his paws. He glanced over his shoulder and then leaped up, howling as if Cerebus and Beowulf were on his heels. His furry, overfed form raced straight toward his female master.
“Mutt, I have to save…” her voice faded away beneath slobbery kisses as she fell to the ground under the onslaught of Mutt’s feigned fear and very real affection.
Stray leapt up on the table beside the aquarium to place a paw on Rodent’s head. The fuzzball didn’t look so fuzzy with wet fur. He didn’t look very bright either as he reached up with his little paws as if anticipating help. As his tiny, twitching nose disappeared under the water, his little eyes widened. Stray’s eyes narrowed in joy.
“What is going on here?” A deep baritone intoned, and the sound of bags slamming to the counter, followed by a set of keys added to the chaos.
Then male master was leaning over Stray to look down at Rodent. Misunderstanding the situation, he reached past her to scoop Rodent out of the water, “Let me help your little friend. It’ll be alright.”
Rodent gasped as his face came up out of the water again. Male master pulled him close and help him protectively to his polo shirt, oblivious to the wet spot forming there.
Mutt continued licking female master as she regained her feet and checked on Rodent.
“Next time,” Stray hissed.
Rodent blinked and squeaked something unintelligible, but his meaning was obvious as he was transferred to female master for more pampering.
