Wednesday, May 1

Prompt Tuesday-Image Two, James Graham


James Graham

9:29 PM  Entries For Events Only

Which Witch or the Imp?

The king itch, what a flea, I mean it was evil.
A fleabag that smelled like my music.
After totally pissing off everyone she ever knew by giving them fleas, she tempted fate, thought about being evil and about skinning cats. Being totally without shame she prevailed being evil but died, got all the fleas at the cats expense, when the cat got the better of her. Feline aids and septicemia took a toll and she fell, winding up in hell. Merged with the cat in a never ending terror role.

Prompt Tuesday-Image Two, Letitia Minnick


Letitia Minnick

4:01 PM Entries For Events Only

A Visit with Norma Desmond

She told me
her cat was Gloria Swanson
returned from the dead
and ready for her close-up.

I told her
she needed to move farther away
from Sunset Boulevard
and to cut back on the microwave popcorn.

She persisted
and placed the black and white beauty
on my lap
where it perched
with hooded eyes
and a haughty flick of its whiskers.

As the feisty feline climbed up closer,
apparently to sniff my nose,
the thought occurred that psychosis
could very well be contagious
as the kitty began to purr,
"DeMille... DeMille... DeMille..."

Prompt Tuesday-Image Two, Michelle Sicari


 Michelle Sicari

8:25 AM Entries For Events Only

I hate cats and always have, the lecherous beasts. Then about a fortnight ago I noticed myself morphing into one of the loathsome creatures, beasts, if you will. The more I look at myself in the mirror, the realization has become abundantly apparent, that I shall be devoid of my former human self and become wholly beast. Others could see me for who and what I was, but I could not, or perhaps I chose not to see what I really was, an anathematic harpy. One that would cull others just for a laugh. I am being punished, and shall be mocked and ridiculed for my ways and be forced to depend on the kindheartedness of strangers just for a mere sustainable nibble.

Prompt Tuesday-Image Two, Kim Robertson


Kim Robertson

Yesterday 5:37 PM Entries For Events Only

Cat Lady

I never knew her very well. She was pretty and quiet but happy to chat if the right moment arrived. The sort of person that you forget when life moves you away from them. Pleasant but a little bit distant; a little bit unreal. I remember her telling me about the flowers that she was growing in the planter box outside her ground floor apartment. She was looking forward to spring to see them bloom. I guess she never got the chance.

I wouldn't even be thinking of her now except I for her cat. Strangely the cat was a lot like her. Pretty and quiet, but friendly if approached nicely. I looked into its eyes and I could see the loss; it made me feel sad. The poor creature is all that is left of her now. That and the planter box. Someone came along last week with a truck and took all her belongings away, but left the cat behind. It feels like she was completely erased, but I still sense something of her here nonetheless.

None of us in the complex knew she was ill, so we were all shocked when the ambulance came that night. I remember leaning over the balcony looking down at the flashing lights seeing a glimpse of her lifeless body being loaded in the back. They were in no hurry, she had been gone a while, I suppose. Afterwards I was talking to Dorris in number 9, it seems that no one had really known her at all. It made me feel awfully sorry for her, I wished I had been more friendly.

Anyway, I am taking care of her cat. I never knew her real name so I am calling her 'Socks'. Somehow I hope that the poor girl is looking down from somewhere and can see that we haven't forgotten her, Socks and me. I think I will start watering the planter box so her flowers will bloom this spring. Socks will like that.