Here's what I think has happened. I started using this blog as a writing forum, and loved it. Then I moved to Burbank, and used the blog as a record of that change. During the past two months, I have tasted every activity offered here with the exception of exercise and art (although I did use the treadmill once, and last week to an expressive art class - even the teacher thought that was a redundant choice of words). The poetry class (since there's a facilitator) and the writing group (no teacher, just us) have captured me, and I've been pouring my words out there instead of here. Tonight I'll combine the two and give you a story. The way we do it is pick by number from a list of story prompts, and then write for 20 minutes, and include the prompt sentence in our story. Then we read to each other - no criticism, just encouragement. The prompt for today was the sentence: "Every move hinted at a brutal power restrained." Here's the story:
The cat had been left in the apartment, alone, for the
holidays. The dog had gone to the kennel, but that cat only knew he was gone.
The person had gone on vacation, but the cat only knew she was gone. Another
person came in twice a day to replenish food, check the cat box, open or close
the balcony door, and give a few cursory pats, but when no purr responded, the
pats became fewer and farther between. The first few days, the cat slept. Nothing was very interesting, so he
slept. He didn’t find the food person particularly interesting, so he slept.The food was briefly interesting, but with just a few bites the cat found it dull, so he ate the barest necessary, and slept some more.
Three days of sleeping left him oddly restless, and he
prowled the apartment, looking for life. The food person came and the cat
prowled. When the balcony door was open, he prowled outside and looked
disgustedly at the birds. He prowled the bed at night. He slept fitfully now,
slightly aware of missing the warmth of the person.
Three days of prowling tuned his muscles and nerves to a
fine pitch. His tail began to switch behind him, and he hunted for unknown
prey. His sleeping was filled with dreams of battle and of kill. Dream cats cowered
before him, and dream mice, lizards, birds were unable to escape his claws,
which were growing longer and sharper.
On the seventh day, wound as tight as a wire on a spool, he
was prowling the balcony and spotted a small moving object. He chased it into a
corner where he held it down with one paw, and sniffed. He had no word for this
thing, but his dreams of hunt and kill became awake to him. On all the seventh
day he toyed with the creature, and in his mind it became ferocious and
dangerous, and the cat became ferocious and dangerous in return. Every
move hinted at a brutal power restrained.
The food person came in the evening of the seventh day, but
could not entice the cat inside. Attempts to pick him up were met with rage
and tearing claws. The person left food, left the balcony door open and
left the apartment with shivers of a cold and unnamed unease.
On the seventh night, the cat paced his prey. It became
slower, and slower, and finally the cat pounced and killed and ate. And finally
slept.
On the eighth day, he awoke from his sleeping, and found a
tremendous power in his heart and body. He looked at the food person with a
sneer and a growl, and the person dropped his jaw when he saw a creature
nothing like the one he’d left the night before. The cat was large, skinny and
rangy. His pacing exuded brutal power, and his feet pounded like storm
troopers on the floor. His open mouth issued sounds no cat had made before and
the person was struck with terror. With barely a glance at the dry food and water, and without pausing, the person fled through the door.
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