MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “entertainment”

Cat in a bag

https://www.warrenphotographic.co.uk/photography/bigs/19934-Maine-Coon-Kitten-in-a-Santa-hat-white-background.jpg

He hadn’t been around for days now and Mrs Claus was getting worried. He was the smallest of the litter, although the feistiest one and,truth be told, he was her favourite.

But it was three days now that he had not shown up, not even during feeding times. She had asked his mother and brothers, but would only get a vague reply from his sister. She was probably just asking for more food.

She looked everywhere for him. In the toy factory, in the elves’ dorms, in the sleigh, in the kitchen, in the cupboards, in the sweet shops, everywhere. He was nowhere to be seen. And the worse part was that no-one else had seen him either.

Mrs Claus decided she had to call for reinforcements.

So she told Santa that her favourite kitten had gone missing.

What if he’s been catnapped? He was the cutest of the lot,” she said in despair.

No, no, he is around here somewhere,” Santa tried to reassure her.

They called out his name, rang bells and food plates, but nothing.

They even asked the reindeer, but to no avail.

As snow began to fall heavier outside, Mrs Santa became all the more worried that he was somewhere alone and cold.

But then, just as it happens with all things you look too hard for and then you find them when you stop searching – the little cat appeared on its own.

It was Santa who first spotted him when he saw his toy bag juddering on the sleigh. He knew it was not any of the toy robots, because they had no batteries installed. As he raised the opening of the bag slightly to peek inside, he saw two bright eyes staring back at him. They were accompanied by a faint “meow”. One that Mrs Claus heard, however, and rushed over just in time to see the little lion walk merrily out of the bag, unaware of all the commotion he had caused.

Sometimes it’s the smallest things that cause your heart to skip a few beats. It is only then that  you acknowledge their importance.

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A single moment on track

©Dawn M. Miller

That autumn day, just when the train was following its tracks under the tunnel into the mountain, with the crispy leaves brushing against the half-open windows, is exactly when she realised her life had changed.

They were playing card games in an almost empty wagon. Their laughter echoed in the wooden cabin. It was the sound of sincere joy.

She was gleaming all over. His eyes reflected her happiness. That innocent pure love of life that belonged to a child. He made her happy.

It was then she realised she was in love. And that would inevitably change her forever.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Something special within the season

©MCD

He realised something was happening when the bright seasonal decorations began to appear, first on the main door, then the lights on the window. Suddenly the night appeared to light up. There was colour pouring out of every corner of the building.

The snow made it evident winter had come. But that too was part of the season. You had to feel it was winter.

He didn’t care it was this cold. He was used to it anyway. It was freezing when he arrived a year ago. One year had already past. And now he was ready to celebrate a birthday. One that happened to coincide with the most wonderful time of the year.

He disliked the fact that people bypassed his own celebrations and he had to deal with the fact that every one was celebrating these days. He wanted to feel special. To have a day devoted to him. To have a day that was his very own.

Those who cared would make it so.

After all that is what family and friends are for.

Even if you are simply a kitten.

You still deserve to have something unique, especially for you.

Sculpted memories

js-brand-tree

©J.S. Brand

The things you remember are the things that are strange. The ones out of the ordinary, that are often nothing like expected.

When Mario told her he had a surprise-picnic planned, what immediately sprung to mind was something romantic, in a green field, with tall trees, flowers, silence and plenty of fresh air for them to breathe in and relax. They would also preferably be alone.

What happened though, was something Marisol could never forget. Mario took her to the neighbourhood park, where he prepared a mini-barbecue, under a sculpted tree.

He said this would surely create a lasting memory.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The lure of a bookstore

https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/bookstore-slide-2MCD-superJumbo.jpgFor Martia, walking into a bookstore was like walking into a magic realm. In the words of Jen Campbell, “you see, bookshops are dreams built of wood and paper. They are time travel and escape and knowledge and power. They are simply put, the best of places”. In fact, she could hardly ever walk into a bookstore and not leave without buying something.

Martia’s life revolved around books. She loved reading, wrote a blog about books and worked as an editor in a publishing company. She lived and breathed books.

Yet, ironically, she could not find the words to describe how much she adored these tomes of paper. As environmentally-unfriendly they were, there was nothing like the smell that transpired when flicking the pages of a new book. Used books also held their secrets gripped within their pages. Because no one could read a book and remain the same person.

Martia had learned to appreciate even more people who read. Not on an electronic device, but the actual paper copy. Books, she said, made our minds sharper, life more exciting, they lift your spirits, lower your stress levels and make your heart more compassionate. Books always had something new to say. And there is a book on almost anything by almost anyone. What you should be careful to do is pick out the right copy – find the book that says something, in language worthy of the paper it is printed on, that makes you think and makes you want to change things.

“A bookstore is one of the only pieces of evidence we have that people are still thinking” – Jerry Seinfeld

The tenant of the clock

jhc-clock

©J Hardy Carroll

It was a present from the global travels of a great uncle. It was a gift passed down each generation. It was one that carried the history of its owners with it.

It was finely crafted and had an essence of another era. It stood out in every home it was placed. But that was its point after all: to remind you that you should stand out of the crowd.

One night in its new location, a faint scratching woke everyone up. It wasn’t the clock ticking.

It was something hiding inside the clock-tower: a tiny kitten seeking a home.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A vintage outfit

©MCD

©MCD

The rattling outside his window in the middle of the night did not wake him. Nor did the scratching of the metal on the pavement disturb his sleep. He paid no attention whatsoever to the movement on his front yard at the break of dawn.

But when he woke, he found it there. Right outside his garage door.

It was just as he imagined it would be. Light brown with silver, red, blue and yellow lines and a green and gold rim round the wheels.

A motorcycle with a sidecar.

It was vintage but he had always dreamed of one. He even knew the little-known fact that “a motorcycle with a sidecar is sometimes called a combination, an outfit, a rig or a hack”.

In his head, he was already racing in the countryside with the “outfit”, among green trees and pick-nick perfect valleys. Driving like in those old movies he used to watch, and hoping he wouldn’t hit a tree and split from his other half.

But… he lacked the company. The one to sit in his sidecar.

Just at that moment, someone made their presence felt.

A gentle bark and a wagging of its fury tail as it approached was all he needed to persuade him to let his fleece-golden Labrador be his sidekick in this new adventure.

Reflecting feelings

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend

©Nathan Sowers

It was the only thing left over from the yard sale. And she didn’t understand why. If she could afford it, it would have been the first thing she would spend her money on. It was plain and “normal”, but sometimes what looks simple is more than that. Plus, it definitely had a story. It must have. Nothing so “ordinary” was every what it appeared to be.

As the sun set, she found herself mesmerised by it. The clear reflection of the garden shed had captured her attention.

Or perhaps it was the flickering light that appeared at its window.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

 

A ritual of light

tribute-carla-bicomong

©Carla Bicomong

It was a ritual held once a year. Usually at the end of summer. Around the time of a full moon. People of all ages would gather by the coast and with almost religious reverence quietly place the one they brought and lit onto the water.

The paper lanterns would first fill the surface of the water like floating candles. In the midst of the night, it was a calming sight.

Then another series of flying lanterns would be released into the sky.

It was a symbol of hope, of light taking over the darkness, of optimism and ever-present life.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Green happiness

ronda-del-boccio

©Ronda Del Boccio

When Martha first moved into her own house, her parents brought her a plant. There were no flowers, just green leaves. They told her that plants were necessary in our lives and our homes not only for the oxygen they provide, but for the meanings they give to us.

Martha didn’t quite understand.

At first she didn’t really care for the plant. She left it at some corner of the house with sunlight and regular water.

But she quickly came to realise that the more she cared for the plant the more it bloomed. It became her friend and inspiration.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

 

 

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