This is a story that I wrote for a writing contest at school. It's called My Sweet Release... Here it is:
My Sweet Release
MY NAME IS DREAM, AND TONIGHT, I lay here to die. Just lying here is perdition, and my faithless mind reminds me that miracles don’t exist. My heart bleeds out, and my newborns are still unaware of my predicament. As my little kittens feel content now, I recall everything in my life that led me to this moment. …
When I was nine months old, I was a normal housecat; carefree, jubilant, peaceful. I still lived with my mother, as she took care of her latest litter. There were five in the litter; two toms and three she-cats. The toms were Rusty and Flash. The she-cats were Flower, Cream, and Pinky. The smallest one was named Pinky because her fur was a pinkish gray.
It was summer, and the five kittens were three months old. Rusty, the oldest of that litter, was leaping with excitement and anticipation.
“What is it?” my mother asked.
“I heard from the other housecats that our Provider’s giving us a party!” Rusty squeaked.
Mother and I looked at each other. Our Provider never gave us a party. I rarely knew what a party was until now.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s giving us a show for the Fourth of July!”
“What’s ‘Fourth of July?’” I questioned.
“I don’t know,” Cream mewed. “It’s some Provider holiday.”
“What’s a holiday?”
“I don’t know,” she meowed. “I’m not God!”
“All right, kits.” Mother hushed us. “We might as well get ready for this—party.”
Our preparations and grooming were vigorous and planning, as we were unaware that this “party” was to die for. The background of our Provider was strange, and he never gave us collars or special things. The regular food is all we seemed to need.
“Dream,” Pinky mewed as the sun was about to set.
“What is it?”
“Have you ever thought about when you were going to die?”
I shook my head, pressing against my sister. “You shouldn’t think about things like that. You die when He thinks it’s time for you to, and that won’t be for many, many years.”
“You promise?” she meowed.
I nodded. “I promise.”
The five little ones, my mother, and I came to the back patio when the moon was just about to peek from the trees. It was empty, quiet, and eerie. Not a single cricket scratched its leg to play its natural melody.
“It’s quiet out here,” Flash meowed, his voice echoing. “Too quiet.”
“All I see out here is a bunch of sticks poked in the ground,” Rusty meowed with curiosity.
He was right. There were dozens of colorful sticks in the ground, with white stars and red and blue designs.
But then, there was the sound of guffawing; a wicked laugh. Then, there was the sound of burning. We all froze in our tracks when a bright ginger light was eating a string attached to one of the sticks. When it was all gone, fire was burning, and the stick erupted in the air. A shearing sound filled the clearing, and thunder boomed as the sky bled different colors.
“Run!”
Mother’s cry broke me from my trance. The six of us were running in circles. Our mother was running, too, but at a slow pace. Flash and Rusty just missed one of the large, lethal fire stars by a hair.
One of the fire sticks was right next to Mother, and it was firing now.
“Mother, no!”
“Dream!” she meowed. “The kits depend on you now. Take care of them—“
Just as she was talking, the stick erupted, engulfing my mother’s body in brilliant flames. My whole life I depended on my mother and now she was dead—just like that. As I felt tears roll down my cheeks and saw the scenery glow bright ginger and red, I realized I had a new burden on me—my family.
I was their care-taker, now.
“Everyone,” I called out to my littermates, “come to me!”
Thankfully, everyone was safe, and they all came to my side.
“We must go now—“
“But what about Mommy?” Cream cried.
“She’s not coming with us.”
“I want Mommy!” Pinky wailed.
I ignored her, and just led all the kittens to a crevice in the fence that was just enough of a size to squeeze through. …
We all made it out of there, and we were okay for a long time. The little ones didn’t even remember who their mother was. But, there was something that happened on the journey, there always is. It was now spring, and there was many tragedies that happened during the next six months.
Rusty was killed one winter night. He was desperate to try to get food from wolves, which lead to his death. As for Pinky, my promise was broken. She had perished of a sickness, and I still feel terrible about that. Now, it was just me, Flash, Flower and Cream; four nomads, rogues that depended on each other.
It was calm morning in April when this next event will take place. I went out early for a little hunt while the other three were asleep. I was just about to stalk a delicious vole; so close to as well. I’d dropped into a crouch, when I heard a curious meow. I was pouncing then, and the vole got away. I looked around to see where that meow came from.
“Show yourself!”
There was a rustling in the brush, as if the mystery cat was still trying to hide.
“Come on!” I yowled. “I know you’re in there!”
The tom moved slowly out of the brush. He had red-brown fur, and his eyes shone a bright green. His look was curious, almost frightened, and he did not have a collar. He looked about my age—maybe a little younger.
“Who are you?” I hissed.
“I have several names, for I’ve been to several places,” he murmured. “But, my friends call me Morty.”
“Okay, Morty, did you realize that you’ve just chased away my breakfast?”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he mewed.
“Excuse me, but my name is Dream,” I meowed.
“How compunctious of me, Mi—I mean, Dream,” he stuttered. “Do you need me to get you another vole? It’s no problem, really.”
“I don’t need some tom to protect me,” I spat.
“I’m not trying to,” he argued calmly.
I then heard a timid mew of my younger littermates. They peered out from the bushes.
“Who’s that?” Flower asked.
“It’s no one,” I sighed.
“My name’s Morty. What’s yours?”
“I’m Flash, and that’s Flower and Cream.”
“Excuse me, Morty,” I interrupted, “but we really must be going.”
“Are you lost?” he murmured.
“Ye—“
“No,” I stopped Flower from mewing.
“I live in a barn nearby.” Morty ignored me. “There are some cats that live there that would love to help you. Believe me, they helped me.”
“Can we go?” Flash meowed.
“Um, I don’t know—“
“Please?” The three kittens were stubborn, but they were convincing. They did need a temporary place to settle, especially after Rusty’s and Pinky’s deaths.
I sighed finally. “Okay.”
They were cheering, practically, as Morty led us to the barn. It was a large red building, not like that house that we stayed at before. When we came in, there were three senescent she-cats that clambered towards us. The three younger ones behind me were cowering away, startled by their approach.
“Oh,” cried one, “you poor little things. Don’t worry; you’re safe here, now.”
The elderly she-cats were named Princess, Milan, and Nyra. Apparently, they took to the pleasure of taking care of rogues, like us and Morty, and travelers. We stayed there for another couple of seasons, and during this time, I realized that I was growing quite fond of Morty—and I think he felt the same way. The other rogues and travelers teased us because of the way we “eyed” each other.
It was about October now, and I noticed how much the kittens had grown this year (I can’t necessarily call them kittens, now). They were now a year and a half old.
Like I said, it was October; ten weeks before the litter I mentioned will be born, but I was oblivious of that.
“Dream,” Morty murmured, “would you like to come with me to hunt?”
From the look in his green eyes, I couldn’t say no. So, with a brisk nod of my head, we were off. Things unimaginably wonderful had happened that day that I can’t really explain. I didn’t know if it was this particular week or the way he was so good to me, and I still don’t. As we were on this hunt, we were talking, and things started to get a little serious, more or less.
I stared at the setting sun. “My mother taught me that the sun setting is the sign from God that the new day will arrive just as it has before, and we should be grateful.”
“You must really believe in that stuff, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I mewed, looking at Morty. “Sometimes there’s something telling me that there’s more to believe, as long as I have faith.”
“I like that philosophy,” he mewed, pressing against me. He sighed, “Dream, I’ve been meaning to take a mate for a while, but I realize now that I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”
I looked up. His green eyes were like pools of which the depths I couldn’t get out of. He was serious about what he said, and I looked down again. I loved him, but I didn’t know if I was really going to stay here. Some nagging thought in my mind was telling me to move on, but something chased it away. Love takes over you in strange ways, I must admit.
“I must be crazy,” I whispered, “but yes.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
I nodded, purring. Green eyes stared into my blue, and there was some kind of an attraction. And, as he leaned down and kissed me, my thoughts were in a chaotic whirl like an unpredictable monsoon.
We mated that night, and it was the most exciting, romantic, and at the same time most lewd moment of my life. I wished it would last forever, but nothing does last forever, I’m afraid to say. Morty was the sweetest tom I’ve ever met, and it was a pleasure to have this passionate relationship. But, after this night was over, I experienced a pure wretchedness.
When I awoke the next morning, I realized that we were not at the barn, and that there was a “we” here. Morty was not sleeping, but he was standing over me, looking at me with pure bliss. But, in the midst of being locked in his gaze, a new pair of eyes was staring at us.
“You must be the cat’s he’s looking for,” a husky voice rasped.
I jerked my head to meet the speaker. It was a gangly, skinny tom with grey stripes along his body.
“Who are you?” I meowed.
“No one in particular,” he mewed, “but I’m here to warn you. There’s a Provider coming that knows of your existence. He’s looking for cats to put into work.”
“What do you mean?” Morty growled.
“Well, there are three little cats he’s gathering right now that will definitely be useful to him.”
My mind was in panic. “Flower, Cream, Flash!”
Morty and I raced back to the barn, where there was chaos. The cows and horses inside wreaked havoc, and Nyra, Princess, and Milan were murdered. Flower, Flash and Cream were being gathered by a Provider, putting them in a large contraption.
“Leave them alone!” I yowled. I ran to the Provider, scratching at one of his paws as violently as I could.
The Provider grunted in his unknown language. He grabbed me by the scruff violently, and I was thrown in the cage.
“Morty!” I cried out my mate’s name as the Provider carried us away.
Morty was running after us, and his claws were gripping in the earth as he tried to keep his pace steady yet quick.
“Don’t worry,” he meowed. “I’m coming!”
“Morty,” I cried out again, “I love you!”
There was a smile on his face as he was still running. “I love you, too.”
We were already inside the large Thunder Runner when he was still chasing after us. That was when the Provider went out of it.
“Morty,” I warned, “look out!”
He gasped as the Provider released his paw in a kick into Morty’s ribs. There was a deafening crack, and the breath was knocked from my mate as he fell, unconscious.
“Morty!”
I wailed with grief for the lost and short love that he and I had together, and he looked dead and small as we pulled away. I’ll love you, forever, Morty. …
The days went on, and I was filled with such grief to carry on through the day at the new house. The Provider made us work and do labors that were inhumane and unrealistic. If we didn’t do the work, he’d beat us. If we didn’t eat, he’d beat us. If we fought, he’d beat us. If we did anything to make him angry, he’d beat us. I usually got the punishment.
That reason was because I needed to eat. I was always sick, and the work was tiring. My walk was heavy, and I often overslept. I’ve noticed my flanks swell, and the looks I’d get from the other cats; disbelief and disgust. I was pregnant.
And I was getting beaten because of it.
“This was your punishment for your sick liaison,” one of the cats spat.
I’ve noticed that the amount of food I was getting was less every day.
“Oh, Morty,” I cry sometimes at night, “I wish you were here to save me.”
But, one day, I found my own way out. During the working hours, I found a way to escape me. I quickly got Flower, Flash and Cream to leave this madness. We left just in time, before the Provider would come chase us.
We didn’t run that far, because I immediately got tired.
“Dream,” Cream murmured, “are you okay?”
I nodded, panting breathlessly. “I’m fine, don’t fret.”
“Why did we get out?”
I answered Flower’s question with a rasping purr. “Let’s just say, there will be new members of this little herd.”
We were nomads once again, moving when there was nothing left or conditions were too dangerous. That was until the abandoned house. We stayed there for the rest of this time. The food was not much, but we made the best of it, and it was almost time for my birthing.
That was when he came.
One night, while the other three were hunting, a visitor came into the den. It was the gray tabby I saw the day I was taken. He had a malicious look on his face, and it scared me.
The most inhumane abuses are the beatings you get from you own kind. That tom beat me numb, throwing me, clawing at me. Then, the most terrible thing of all—he rammed his head hard into my chest, cracking my ribs. Excruciating malady went throughout my body as he just ran away. Letting out wails of great distress, I realized that it wasn’t my chest that was burning, but the kittens were ready to arrive, too. The birthing was a great ordeal, and I was afraid of dying in the middle of it. I had three little ones, a she-kit and two toms. And, during this birthing, one of my broken ribs literally pierced my heart. Legitimate torture overwhelmed me.
Now, we go back to the dying she-cat, now dying with her babies. I didn’t know when my littermates will return, but they did, thank—whoever there is to thank.
“Dream,” Cream mews, “are you going to die?”
“Slow and painfully,” I reply, or at least what I thought was the case. Who the—?
There was a red-brown tom behind them, a muscular vision that I thought I was dreaming. When I saw his green eyes, I knew it was him.
“Morty,” I rasp as he kissed me. I realized that miracles did exist with my last moments of life.
And, there goes the young mother, her soul blindly heading towards the heavens—leaving her family and now alive mate behind—with the burden off her shoulders at last.
I'm crossing my fingers. I hope I win the contest!!! Wish me luck :D
-Ttmrktmnrfn0830
My Sweet Release
MY NAME IS DREAM, AND TONIGHT, I lay here to die. Just lying here is perdition, and my faithless mind reminds me that miracles don’t exist. My heart bleeds out, and my newborns are still unaware of my predicament. As my little kittens feel content now, I recall everything in my life that led me to this moment. …
When I was nine months old, I was a normal housecat; carefree, jubilant, peaceful. I still lived with my mother, as she took care of her latest litter. There were five in the litter; two toms and three she-cats. The toms were Rusty and Flash. The she-cats were Flower, Cream, and Pinky. The smallest one was named Pinky because her fur was a pinkish gray.
It was summer, and the five kittens were three months old. Rusty, the oldest of that litter, was leaping with excitement and anticipation.
“What is it?” my mother asked.
“I heard from the other housecats that our Provider’s giving us a party!” Rusty squeaked.
Mother and I looked at each other. Our Provider never gave us a party. I rarely knew what a party was until now.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s giving us a show for the Fourth of July!”
“What’s ‘Fourth of July?’” I questioned.
“I don’t know,” Cream mewed. “It’s some Provider holiday.”
“What’s a holiday?”
“I don’t know,” she meowed. “I’m not God!”
“All right, kits.” Mother hushed us. “We might as well get ready for this—party.”
Our preparations and grooming were vigorous and planning, as we were unaware that this “party” was to die for. The background of our Provider was strange, and he never gave us collars or special things. The regular food is all we seemed to need.
“Dream,” Pinky mewed as the sun was about to set.
“What is it?”
“Have you ever thought about when you were going to die?”
I shook my head, pressing against my sister. “You shouldn’t think about things like that. You die when He thinks it’s time for you to, and that won’t be for many, many years.”
“You promise?” she meowed.
I nodded. “I promise.”
The five little ones, my mother, and I came to the back patio when the moon was just about to peek from the trees. It was empty, quiet, and eerie. Not a single cricket scratched its leg to play its natural melody.
“It’s quiet out here,” Flash meowed, his voice echoing. “Too quiet.”
“All I see out here is a bunch of sticks poked in the ground,” Rusty meowed with curiosity.
He was right. There were dozens of colorful sticks in the ground, with white stars and red and blue designs.
But then, there was the sound of guffawing; a wicked laugh. Then, there was the sound of burning. We all froze in our tracks when a bright ginger light was eating a string attached to one of the sticks. When it was all gone, fire was burning, and the stick erupted in the air. A shearing sound filled the clearing, and thunder boomed as the sky bled different colors.
“Run!”
Mother’s cry broke me from my trance. The six of us were running in circles. Our mother was running, too, but at a slow pace. Flash and Rusty just missed one of the large, lethal fire stars by a hair.
One of the fire sticks was right next to Mother, and it was firing now.
“Mother, no!”
“Dream!” she meowed. “The kits depend on you now. Take care of them—“
Just as she was talking, the stick erupted, engulfing my mother’s body in brilliant flames. My whole life I depended on my mother and now she was dead—just like that. As I felt tears roll down my cheeks and saw the scenery glow bright ginger and red, I realized I had a new burden on me—my family.
I was their care-taker, now.
“Everyone,” I called out to my littermates, “come to me!”
Thankfully, everyone was safe, and they all came to my side.
“We must go now—“
“But what about Mommy?” Cream cried.
“She’s not coming with us.”
“I want Mommy!” Pinky wailed.
I ignored her, and just led all the kittens to a crevice in the fence that was just enough of a size to squeeze through. …
We all made it out of there, and we were okay for a long time. The little ones didn’t even remember who their mother was. But, there was something that happened on the journey, there always is. It was now spring, and there was many tragedies that happened during the next six months.
Rusty was killed one winter night. He was desperate to try to get food from wolves, which lead to his death. As for Pinky, my promise was broken. She had perished of a sickness, and I still feel terrible about that. Now, it was just me, Flash, Flower and Cream; four nomads, rogues that depended on each other.
It was calm morning in April when this next event will take place. I went out early for a little hunt while the other three were asleep. I was just about to stalk a delicious vole; so close to as well. I’d dropped into a crouch, when I heard a curious meow. I was pouncing then, and the vole got away. I looked around to see where that meow came from.
“Show yourself!”
There was a rustling in the brush, as if the mystery cat was still trying to hide.
“Come on!” I yowled. “I know you’re in there!”
The tom moved slowly out of the brush. He had red-brown fur, and his eyes shone a bright green. His look was curious, almost frightened, and he did not have a collar. He looked about my age—maybe a little younger.
“Who are you?” I hissed.
“I have several names, for I’ve been to several places,” he murmured. “But, my friends call me Morty.”
“Okay, Morty, did you realize that you’ve just chased away my breakfast?”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he mewed.
“Excuse me, but my name is Dream,” I meowed.
“How compunctious of me, Mi—I mean, Dream,” he stuttered. “Do you need me to get you another vole? It’s no problem, really.”
“I don’t need some tom to protect me,” I spat.
“I’m not trying to,” he argued calmly.
I then heard a timid mew of my younger littermates. They peered out from the bushes.
“Who’s that?” Flower asked.
“It’s no one,” I sighed.
“My name’s Morty. What’s yours?”
“I’m Flash, and that’s Flower and Cream.”
“Excuse me, Morty,” I interrupted, “but we really must be going.”
“Are you lost?” he murmured.
“Ye—“
“No,” I stopped Flower from mewing.
“I live in a barn nearby.” Morty ignored me. “There are some cats that live there that would love to help you. Believe me, they helped me.”
“Can we go?” Flash meowed.
“Um, I don’t know—“
“Please?” The three kittens were stubborn, but they were convincing. They did need a temporary place to settle, especially after Rusty’s and Pinky’s deaths.
I sighed finally. “Okay.”
They were cheering, practically, as Morty led us to the barn. It was a large red building, not like that house that we stayed at before. When we came in, there were three senescent she-cats that clambered towards us. The three younger ones behind me were cowering away, startled by their approach.
“Oh,” cried one, “you poor little things. Don’t worry; you’re safe here, now.”
The elderly she-cats were named Princess, Milan, and Nyra. Apparently, they took to the pleasure of taking care of rogues, like us and Morty, and travelers. We stayed there for another couple of seasons, and during this time, I realized that I was growing quite fond of Morty—and I think he felt the same way. The other rogues and travelers teased us because of the way we “eyed” each other.
It was about October now, and I noticed how much the kittens had grown this year (I can’t necessarily call them kittens, now). They were now a year and a half old.
Like I said, it was October; ten weeks before the litter I mentioned will be born, but I was oblivious of that.
“Dream,” Morty murmured, “would you like to come with me to hunt?”
From the look in his green eyes, I couldn’t say no. So, with a brisk nod of my head, we were off. Things unimaginably wonderful had happened that day that I can’t really explain. I didn’t know if it was this particular week or the way he was so good to me, and I still don’t. As we were on this hunt, we were talking, and things started to get a little serious, more or less.
I stared at the setting sun. “My mother taught me that the sun setting is the sign from God that the new day will arrive just as it has before, and we should be grateful.”
“You must really believe in that stuff, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I mewed, looking at Morty. “Sometimes there’s something telling me that there’s more to believe, as long as I have faith.”
“I like that philosophy,” he mewed, pressing against me. He sighed, “Dream, I’ve been meaning to take a mate for a while, but I realize now that I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”
I looked up. His green eyes were like pools of which the depths I couldn’t get out of. He was serious about what he said, and I looked down again. I loved him, but I didn’t know if I was really going to stay here. Some nagging thought in my mind was telling me to move on, but something chased it away. Love takes over you in strange ways, I must admit.
“I must be crazy,” I whispered, “but yes.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
I nodded, purring. Green eyes stared into my blue, and there was some kind of an attraction. And, as he leaned down and kissed me, my thoughts were in a chaotic whirl like an unpredictable monsoon.
We mated that night, and it was the most exciting, romantic, and at the same time most lewd moment of my life. I wished it would last forever, but nothing does last forever, I’m afraid to say. Morty was the sweetest tom I’ve ever met, and it was a pleasure to have this passionate relationship. But, after this night was over, I experienced a pure wretchedness.
When I awoke the next morning, I realized that we were not at the barn, and that there was a “we” here. Morty was not sleeping, but he was standing over me, looking at me with pure bliss. But, in the midst of being locked in his gaze, a new pair of eyes was staring at us.
“You must be the cat’s he’s looking for,” a husky voice rasped.
I jerked my head to meet the speaker. It was a gangly, skinny tom with grey stripes along his body.
“Who are you?” I meowed.
“No one in particular,” he mewed, “but I’m here to warn you. There’s a Provider coming that knows of your existence. He’s looking for cats to put into work.”
“What do you mean?” Morty growled.
“Well, there are three little cats he’s gathering right now that will definitely be useful to him.”
My mind was in panic. “Flower, Cream, Flash!”
Morty and I raced back to the barn, where there was chaos. The cows and horses inside wreaked havoc, and Nyra, Princess, and Milan were murdered. Flower, Flash and Cream were being gathered by a Provider, putting them in a large contraption.
“Leave them alone!” I yowled. I ran to the Provider, scratching at one of his paws as violently as I could.
The Provider grunted in his unknown language. He grabbed me by the scruff violently, and I was thrown in the cage.
“Morty!” I cried out my mate’s name as the Provider carried us away.
Morty was running after us, and his claws were gripping in the earth as he tried to keep his pace steady yet quick.
“Don’t worry,” he meowed. “I’m coming!”
“Morty,” I cried out again, “I love you!”
There was a smile on his face as he was still running. “I love you, too.”
We were already inside the large Thunder Runner when he was still chasing after us. That was when the Provider went out of it.
“Morty,” I warned, “look out!”
He gasped as the Provider released his paw in a kick into Morty’s ribs. There was a deafening crack, and the breath was knocked from my mate as he fell, unconscious.
“Morty!”
I wailed with grief for the lost and short love that he and I had together, and he looked dead and small as we pulled away. I’ll love you, forever, Morty. …
The days went on, and I was filled with such grief to carry on through the day at the new house. The Provider made us work and do labors that were inhumane and unrealistic. If we didn’t do the work, he’d beat us. If we didn’t eat, he’d beat us. If we fought, he’d beat us. If we did anything to make him angry, he’d beat us. I usually got the punishment.
That reason was because I needed to eat. I was always sick, and the work was tiring. My walk was heavy, and I often overslept. I’ve noticed my flanks swell, and the looks I’d get from the other cats; disbelief and disgust. I was pregnant.
And I was getting beaten because of it.
“This was your punishment for your sick liaison,” one of the cats spat.
I’ve noticed that the amount of food I was getting was less every day.
“Oh, Morty,” I cry sometimes at night, “I wish you were here to save me.”
But, one day, I found my own way out. During the working hours, I found a way to escape me. I quickly got Flower, Flash and Cream to leave this madness. We left just in time, before the Provider would come chase us.
We didn’t run that far, because I immediately got tired.
“Dream,” Cream murmured, “are you okay?”
I nodded, panting breathlessly. “I’m fine, don’t fret.”
“Why did we get out?”
I answered Flower’s question with a rasping purr. “Let’s just say, there will be new members of this little herd.”
We were nomads once again, moving when there was nothing left or conditions were too dangerous. That was until the abandoned house. We stayed there for the rest of this time. The food was not much, but we made the best of it, and it was almost time for my birthing.
That was when he came.
One night, while the other three were hunting, a visitor came into the den. It was the gray tabby I saw the day I was taken. He had a malicious look on his face, and it scared me.
The most inhumane abuses are the beatings you get from you own kind. That tom beat me numb, throwing me, clawing at me. Then, the most terrible thing of all—he rammed his head hard into my chest, cracking my ribs. Excruciating malady went throughout my body as he just ran away. Letting out wails of great distress, I realized that it wasn’t my chest that was burning, but the kittens were ready to arrive, too. The birthing was a great ordeal, and I was afraid of dying in the middle of it. I had three little ones, a she-kit and two toms. And, during this birthing, one of my broken ribs literally pierced my heart. Legitimate torture overwhelmed me.
Now, we go back to the dying she-cat, now dying with her babies. I didn’t know when my littermates will return, but they did, thank—whoever there is to thank.
“Dream,” Cream mews, “are you going to die?”
“Slow and painfully,” I reply, or at least what I thought was the case. Who the—?
There was a red-brown tom behind them, a muscular vision that I thought I was dreaming. When I saw his green eyes, I knew it was him.
“Morty,” I rasp as he kissed me. I realized that miracles did exist with my last moments of life.
And, there goes the young mother, her soul blindly heading towards the heavens—leaving her family and now alive mate behind—with the burden off her shoulders at last.
I'm crossing my fingers. I hope I win the contest!!! Wish me luck :D
-Ttmrktmnrfn0830
There’s the shadow of a plane
The sound of an engine,
Flying in the rain.
Please, take me away.
Raise my hands to
Touch the sky.
Wish I could fly to the moon,
Maybe tonight.
Feet glued to the street,
I just have to
Reach.
Hey,
Hey, I just heard a plane
Fly over my place
Please, say that magic word
And take me far away?
This is just a short poem, inspired by Erin McCarley's song, "Bobble Head". I find working from songs a good way to cure my writer's block. It gives me a little push in the right direction. So if you're having trouble, try that :)
The sound of an engine,
Flying in the rain.
Please, take me away.
Raise my hands to
Touch the sky.
Wish I could fly to the moon,
Maybe tonight.
Feet glued to the street,
I just have to
Reach.
Hey,
Hey, I just heard a plane
Fly over my place
Please, say that magic word
And take me far away?
This is just a short poem, inspired by Erin McCarley's song, "Bobble Head". I find working from songs a good way to cure my writer's block. It gives me a little push in the right direction. So if you're having trouble, try that :)