Unseen eyes watched, sending a chill down my spine. Loathing enveloped me. What had I done to deserve this hatred?
My last thought before Lucifer sunk his claws into my back was that it would be a cold day in Hell before I agreed to feed the neighbor’s cat again.
Anita Roberts Soupir is a wife, mother, photographer & freelance writer. Her work can be seen in: Crack the Spine Literary Magazine and Mused – the BellaOnline Literary Review Magazine, as well as Boston Literary Magazine, Literary Juice, 50 Haikus, 50 Word Stories, and SpeckLit.
A paw tapped Dan’s face, and he cracked open an eye. The clock said 4:30. He waved a hand the cat’s direction and grumbled incoherently.
The cat softly meowed.
Dan mumbled, “Go away,” and fell back asleep.
Sharp claws tapped Dan’s forehead. The clock said 5:45.
The cat said, “Now.”
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audiobooks. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write, and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, Kzine, Alien Dimensions, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog.
He needed a home. I let him move in. Bought a new bed. Fed him well. Tended to his every need. Let him sit by a real coal fire.
But every time I turned my back, he sneaked off to the woman down the road.
He was just another tom.
Mary Gunn writes short stories and poetry, including Japanese-style poems. She lives on the east coast of Ireland.
Late afternoon, early winter
Shadows lie heavy
Across this old wooden floor
In sleep, my cat’s ear twitches
Pulling in his paws a little
Feeling his fierce softness
Sunlight between the shadows
Seems to brighten
Then it’s just this old familiar ringing
That always comes
when I am still
Matthew lives in Maine in the fall, winter, and spring. He wishes more of his family lived nearby, and his cat, Mephistopheles, who is a great hunter and a compassionate comforter, and inspires simply by doing nothing.
Warren staggered out onto the porch, coffee in hand. As he lifted the mug to his lips, their eyes locked together. She examined him stoically from across the street.
Then, like a yogic guru, she lifted her leg—and licked her butt. Hot coffee spewed from his nostrils.
Kurt is a screenwriter based in Toronto, Canada.
been going on and on about itself.
Ahab wants out.
Cracking the door,
he is blasted. Crouching,
ears flattened, he retreats.
Sitting Buddha-like now, licking his wounded pride,
he pauses to bring his puffy tail about, and lay it by his side.
Like a monk adjusting his robe.
Matthew lives in Maine.
They say women use 20,000 words per day. I believe it.
Since we got the kitten, my wife’s vocabulary has been reduced to “cutie pootie”, “diddy thing”, “kittiness”.
Never thought I’d say this, but I miss the old days. There were too many words, but at least there was variety.
Mary Steer finds herself mildly addicted to 50-word stories.
My cat stirred from her nap, stretching herself awake. She walked over and jumped onto the couch beside me. She gazed at me, her eyes apathetic, as she sat there. Judging me.
Frowning, I glared back at her, judging her for judging me.
I quickly gave up. I’m a loser.
C.S. Johnson wrote this story.
Queenie, fifteen, had two teeth, no claws, and had never been outside. Yet daily, on the table by the window, she patiently watched the birds.
One Christmas a startled bird flew in when the door opened, straight at Queenie who was ready and expecting. Christmas dinner and life dream manifested!
Kevin McManus is a wannabe writer and successful daydreamer who doesn’t believe in coincidences but does believe that we create our own reality, just as his old cat Queenie did.
Emil Catt yowled piteously at the door for an hour this morning.
“Enough!” And I let him out.
He came back when I called, and as I picked him up to ruffle his head, I looked into the eyes of the owl sitting in the tallest pine, feigning distinterest.
rJo Herman dreams of writing the perfect story her grandchildren will always remember. She lives with her grey striped companion, Emil Catt, I, on the Colorado high desert.