Short Story: Through Feline Eyes

Prompt: There are days when I wonder what my cat, Raizo, thinks about me. She knows me better than most and I wonder how she processes it. This very short story came from that wondering.

My human. I worry about her. Every day she awakes from a long slumber with a solemn look. Her eyes dark, movements stiff as she shuffles to the bathroom. I look on quietly as the water rains down on her. Some days she tries to hide her tears in the spray, but I smell them.

Each morning before leaving, she dresses quickly and feeds me. Her smile forced as I rub against her legs. She thanks me softly and I feel that I have helped in some way. Silently, I watch as she takes a deep breath before facing the outside. Whatever is out there is hard on her and I worry.

Time passes and the door opens again. I rush out to greet her. My human.

She collapses and I try my best to ease her worried heart. We’ll play fetch because I know it amuses her or I’ll lay by her side as she rubs my fur. It doesn’t last long because her interest is flighty.

Short Story: Coincidental Chance of Meeting

*Audio Version*

There are times when one is perusing the local bookstore, dining in the park, or gazing at the stars, when they are assaulted by the strangest of notions. How did I get here? What chain of events led me to this very moment and what is its purpose? For me, those fleeting moments of inquiry often occur in a coffee shop. Tucked alone in a corner, I can delude myself into thinking I am in my own quaint universe. That is until I look up.

When I do take a short break from whatever happens to have captivated my attention for the moment, as one should, it is like a faucet turns on. I am suddenly slapped in the face by the sensory items I’ve often learned to ignore. Warm earth tones greet my eyes, nutty smells of freshly ground coffee tease my nostrils, the chill of the air forcing those to consume more warm beverages give me goosebumps, and the low rumblings of conversation play a melody for my sensitive ears.

Short Story: The Silence

Legs folded beneath my lean frame. A cup of tea resting in my palm. Fingers wrapped around the mug as if it were my only life line. Remnants of its flavor coated my tongue. The sun creeped its way from the horizon to fill the sky with shades of red, orange, and yellow. A soft sigh escaped my lips as the light filtered in.

A brown ball of fur strutted its way across the room and leapt onto the lengthy window seat. Its body rubbed against my knees begging for attention. My hand felt as if it was weighed down by sand as I stroked her behind the ears. I supposed the gesture sated her because she soon became distracted by the ball of yarn in the corner.

Short Story: The Path

A small, wooden box rested in her hands. Her full-length gown swept the floor as she walked the mourner’s path. Posture rigid, head facing straight ahead, the woman’s small, brown thumb repeatedly passed over the detailed engravings on the box’s lid.

Without a glance up, she turned the corner and made her way down a set of stairs. A trendle of coarse curls wiggled its way loose from her bun and bounced with the beat of her steps. Tears shielded onlookers from the dull, lifeless look in her eyes. She was so close. Just a little bit farther.

Another hallway led her to a heavy door made of Redwood with gold inlaid. Only a master could have created such a masterpiece, but its beauty was lost on the woman. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the handle. With a quick jerk, the door swung free and she stepped inside.