MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “fiction”

Cat attacks

https://www.chewy.com/petcentral/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/kitten-mom-cat-TS-480025920.jpgThe entire house woke up from the shrills of a mother cat in the back yard. Recently, having given birth, the cat was overwhelmed with mood swings and the urge to protect her newborns at every cost.

The kittens had not yet opened their eyes, but their fur had already formed polychromatic waves making them irresistibly cute to anyone who saw them.

The cat raced across the yard, night or day, at the sight of any intruder. She even attached the previous batch of her own kittens out of fear they would harm the new arrivals.

But, as a true cat, she would always welcome a caress, a tender stroke on her head and under her chin, and food, of course. But that was whenever she felt like it.

Because like a true cat, life happened according to her own rules.

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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

 

 

Broken time

©MCD_IMG_20180730_182431

©MCD

She wanted a walk on the beach. It was the only thing that could calm her storms. And lately her outbreaks were many. He couldn’t understand why. And she couldn’t explain it to him.

They walked hand in hand in silence, listening to the tranquil splash of the waves on the shore.

It had just rained and the clouds were beginning to disperse in the sky.

A few sailboats interrupted the endless smooth water surface.

A few ducks allowed themselves to drift by, along with a seagull who appeared tired of flying.

They sat down for a while by a wooden bench staring into the ocean.

There it was. A broken peer. As if abandoned to its fate. As if forgotten.

She gazed at it for minutes, wondering what stories it had to tell, how many lives had walked on it, in how many memories it featured.

And then… all those moments were simply gone.

Maybe it is true that nothing lasts forever. It is certainly painful. But that is also the reason why we need to make every moment count and everything we live in it beautiful.

The invisible rope

https://www.crissysmith.net/imadh/crissysmith/a-handfasting-is-an-old-pagan-custom-that-dates-back-to-the-time-of-the-ancient-celtics-it-was-a-celtic-marriage-ritual-where-two-people-declare-a-binding-hand-tying-ceremony-wedding-2-983-x-702.jpgThere is a story the elders of a native tribe used to tell the youth when couples were forced to separate often for days on expeditions outside the village in search for food and resources.

There is an invisible rope that binds two people once they fall in love. That rope keeps them together but not tied to one another. It is what joins them and draws them back to each other when they drift apart. But when one of them reacts and tugs at it as if in an attempt to cut it loose, the rope becomes thinner but it still remains there. It only disappears when both sides decide there is nothing there to keep fighting for. When their relationship has lost all the love, understanding and support it once had and once they stop caring for each other. Like everything in life, relationships are only as strong as you care for them, as the love you put into them, and as the effort you devote into keeping them alive. The point of the rope is to demonstrate the distance between two people is supposed to make their relationship stronger, because it shows them how much the other means to them, how much they fill each other’s lives and how much they want each to be on each other’s side. The rope is supposed to become stronger with the distance, otherwise it is not even worth it.

Heatwave mood

dawn-in-montreal

©Dale Rogerson

When the heatwave arrived, any desire for outdoor activity disappeared. Michelle lay in bed, doors and windows closed to keep in the cool of the air condition. Her mood of the day was to do nothing. If possible, to not even get up.

The sky seemed cloudy. It was that hot and humid. The only place to be outside was at the beach, but the sea was miles away.

She stared out the window, half asleep, hoping something would pleasantly alter the laziness that had taken over her.

The silence was broken by a tingling sound. Repeated twice. A message.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The corner of notes

music-room

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was a corner in the house that belonged to him alone. One in which all worries and concerns would evaporate, converted into notes and music. It was a corner that hosted all of his instruments, his closest friends, those that accompanied him since he was a child. It was to them that he would seek refuge, where he would turn when something went wrong, but also when he wanted to celebrate. They knew best how to express it all: every emotion, every heartbeat.

This was the corner where life gained a meaning. Where he would feel, above all, understood.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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