It's time for another round of #Storytime Blog Hop fiction! Please be sure and check out these other terrific short stories, by these superb writers!
PARTICIPANTS
C. Lee McKenzie Beautiful
Erica Damon Penance J. Q. Rose Sorry
Elise VanCise Lady In The Woods Barbara Lund Spooky Space
Angela Wooldridge Quiet Neighbours Katharina Gerlach Australian Dream
Karen Lynn The Waves at Midnight Sherri Conway Ants
Elizabeth McCleary Over James Henry Wilcox Dead Body Canis Lupus The Picture
Peg Fisher All In the Fall, a Fractured Fairytale Bill Bush Trapped
Benjamin Thomas Autumn Cascade Crystal Collier Emily’s Ghost Juneta Key (placeholder)
“9-1-1,
What is your emergency, please?” The woman on the on the other end of the phone sounded
anxious, but not particularly scared, she may even have been said to have
even sounded a bit sheepish, and , well, no small wonder later on,
when everything got sorted out and stories were compared and various
parties interviewed, for what seemed to have been a sorceress, or a
“temptress”, or mayhap a delightful devil-may-care companion up
for some Samhain, Halloween, or All Hallow's Eve shenanigans with her
talking familiar, an alarmingly large soot-gray panther with glowing
green eyes, who answered to the name of “Trotsky” and conversed
with his mistress in Russian, it all sounded rather like, well, mass
hypnosis, or as if several folks had tarried too long at the Cider
Barrel at one particular high-rise, during the annual Halloween
party. Except for the fact that this high-rise didn't have annual
Halloween parties and the tenants weren't particularly prone to this
kind of delusional thinking.
courtesy:furtech.dreamwidth.org
Some
called in saying they had seen a woman in a black ninja outfit with
katanas, having sport with a giant cat-like, well, leopard up on the roof garden, and
wasn't that just illegal to have a leopard out in the open, in public, like that?
An older woman called, saying that her next-door neighbor had visited for tea, a wonderful tea and brought cookies, along with her cat, and the cat had yowled a wonderful rendition of “Old Man River”, while the younger woman played piano, and now the old lady felt silly calling about it, but she was a bit dubious about a house-cat the size of a house, practically, because, when last she had seen Trotsky, he had seemed much, much smaller. The woman kind of petered out on the whole "send a prowl car" thing, when asked what she wanted to do; she felt rather sheepish about it all. The 911 operator sighed; it was obviously going to be a very long night.
An older woman called, saying that her next-door neighbor had visited for tea, a wonderful tea and brought cookies, along with her cat, and the cat had yowled a wonderful rendition of “Old Man River”, while the younger woman played piano, and now the old lady felt silly calling about it, but she was a bit dubious about a house-cat the size of a house, practically, because, when last she had seen Trotsky, he had seemed much, much smaller. The woman kind of petered out on the whole "send a prowl car" thing, when asked what she wanted to do; she felt rather sheepish about it all. The 911 operator sighed; it was obviously going to be a very long night.
courtesy:pinterest
A
man called in flustered, because he claimed a temptress had tried to
seduce him in the Laundry room in the basement and as they were about
to embrace, he felt a cat winding itself around his legs, only he was
afraid to look down, because the cat's tail felt HUGE, like a ship's
docking rope and when he did look, OHOLYMARYMOTHEROFGOD!, he nearly
fainted! He glimpsed feet the size of dinner plates! The temptress and familiar let out evil cackles and then. . . poofed away! In a puff
of smoke.
One of the many doctors who lived in the building called
in, put out because he had gotten an on-call for an emergency to the nearby
teaching hospital, and when he pushed the button to the elevator, the
door opened, and a woman and a huge cat, or two little people in a leopard-costume, like a horse-costume only smaller, dressed in surgeon's
whites jumped out. They both shouted “SURPRISE!!!” and then, they ran
gleefully off down the hall. The doctor surmised from this that the leopard was real, as he didn't believe that two little people could run quite that fast, encumbered as they were by the leopard-suit clad in surgeon's whites.
The
doctor said, “I know my residency has kept me pretty cloistered, but when
did leopards evolve to the point that they could talk?”
The
poor 911 operator, who by this time had had her fill of all of these
calls answered him, “Sir, I'm not the National Geographic hot-line,
nor a biologist, so I'm not up on that myself. I'll have a prowl car
sent.”
The
doctor, now in a huff, said, “Don't say the word “prowl”. It
makes me feel like I'm “prey”.”
The
911 operator shot back, “Well fine! Why don't you just wait until I
have Scully and Mulder sent out; this sounds like their bailiwick,
anyway!”
courtesy:youtube.com
To
which the doctor riposted, “At least they don't prowl! So there!”
The 911 operator rolled her eyes; people used to at least TRY to be witty.
It
was turning into that kind of night, for everyone involved and it was
just one high-rise building near one teaching hospital in one state.
It just all seemed to devolve into one of those half-waking,
half-sleeping states, where everyone seems either confused or
delusional or both.
Nevertheless,
all of this DID happen, on one certain H'ween eve, and no one is ever
sure why it did happen, and as the Ann Arbor police would later say, “no
harm, no foul, and the “alleged perp” ain't talkin'. As if a cat
could talk.” The policeman then snorted and patted the gorgeous
Russian Blue on his head and left the nice lady's apartment.
courtesy:me
As
soon as the door was closed, the nice lady turned and hissed at
Trotsky in Russian, “What were you thinking? I told you we could
NOT do this anymore! How could I let you talk me into this!”
The
cat looked at her obdurately and yawned, and then as all spoiled
rotten cats do, jumped up, grabbed her around the neck, nestled in
and said, “Da.” Then switched to his patently horrid English. “Is
okay. I have many fun; you too! No one hurt!”
She
rolled her eyes and hugged him tighter. “You've been in this
country HOW LONG? Would it kill you to learn a pronoun or three? What
if someone doesn't think this is so funny and they catch you
“changed” and you get killed? That will kill me! Yeah, yeah, I
know it was all fun and games during the Russian Revolution, but
folks're different here. They're scared of their own shadows. 'Sides
they might miss you and shoot me, or some stupid thing.”
Trotsky
pushed back from her throat and looked her square in the eyes; this was
how she knew she had something “other” than just a cat, when she
found him at three weeks old tottering up a dirt road; that striking
intelligence. She had long ago learned to just go with whatever was
tossed her way; there were far more many things unseen than seen and
she'd quit asking questions at around age 25.
He
looked at her searchingly for several minutes, huffed, and said, “You
think you found me by accident? It was I found you. I knew you have
heart of lion; take anything that come at you. Not wrong about that.
You should not worry about me. It is I who worry about you; you take
too many chances.”
She
was aghast. “That is what life is; taking chances. Surely you know
that and lived your life accordingly. We can have fun; always must
have fun, but life is to be lived and if it means taking chances, we
do.” She started to laugh; “Maybe we're just arguing the same
point, here, but really, if you're going to shape-shift, choose
something less alarming. Next time, chihuahua.”
Trotsky's
eyes twinkled. “Bah! Decent sorceress no has chihuahua. Next time;
Tiger!” He laid his head on her shoulder and fell asleep, purring.
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