Brain Storm

Many of you already know that the girls and I are planning to participate in National Novel Writing Month (hereafter to be referred to as NaNo) which starts on Sunday. What that entails is attempting to write the rough draft for a 50,000 word novel in 30 days (10,000 and 3,000 for the girls).
Consequently, my blogging is going to be a little on the lame side this week. In preparation for novelling, the girls and I are trying to get ahead on schoolwork, housework, work work...oh, and because I have so much extra time on my hands I wrote a 5,000 word short story yesterday (remember that inspiration on the treadmill?). Sleeping is optional at this point.

The good news is that I have the first two weeks of posts for November planned out and I think you are going to love them! I am going to be highlighting the stamps carved by other artists for a very fun project that I had the pleasure of being part of some time ago. That's all I'm going to say until Monday.

And now, for your reading pleasure (or torment), an excerpt from my short story:

Cricket

From the shadows at the back of the cold metal cage, two green eyes glowed. For weeks people had come into the shelter in search of the perfect pet. Each time the bell over the door jingled, the kitten had rubbed herself against the bars in hopes of being touched. And each time, she had been passed over.

There was a young woman with her son a few days ago. The boy had poked his fingers into the crate and scratched her between the ears. She had pushed her head against him and rattled her ribs with her tiny purr. But the boy had started sneezing and they left as quickly as they had come.

Later, a large woman clumped into the room. Her hair was piled high on her head and she smelled strongly of lavender. She tipped her chin up at the sight of the kitten and sniffed, “Black cats are bad luck!” She took home an orange tabby that had a runny nose.

A man with hunched shoulders came in next. His face was covered with bristly black hair. At the smell of him, the kitten had puffed herself up, trying to look larger than she really was. Her hair stood in spikes along the ridge of her back. The man had snarled at her and then chosen a solid dog that was as dark and surly as himself.

Others had come and gone. Some of them chose pets and some of them just came to look. When no one was there, the lady behind the desk would come and open the door of her cage and stroke the kitten’s back. It felt delicious. She would whisper softly to her, “I would take you home with me today, but my landlord doesn’t allow pets in the apartments.” Her eyes looked sad.

After awhile, the kitten stopped coming to the front of the cage when visitors arrived. She simply folded her paws neatly beneath her and watched as the parade of people passed.