Shh, part 7

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


There was no way Lenn could bring himself to stuff the cat into his backpack. Not only would it be uncomfortable, he didn't think it would be safe either. Unzipping his windbreaker, he docked the cat into the the crook of his arm. Then he slowly rezipped back up, trying not to frighten it any further. He could feel its taut muscles, ready to run at the first sign of betrayal, but all it did was look up at him and blink. He had left enough room for the cat's head to peek out. It rubbed its cheek along the zipper track, pausing to gnaw on the unfamiliar material.

With one hand cradling the cat and the other keeping the poncho closed, he'd have no hands to catch himself if he slipped. He'd have to move with sure footsteps which meant going slower than he would have liked.

From the other end of the alley, he could see the rain still coming down so hard that it seemed more like a waterfall.

“Okay, this is going to suck big time.” he told the cat.

He stepped out and together they faced the fury of the storm.


Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Good luck to them both.

  • #3050 Posted 2 years ago
  • 0

Inspired by (sequel to):

“Goddamned cat, you're like a living jump scare.” Lenn muttered.

The cat meowed plaintively, tail u…

Shh, part 6

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