I do a lot more longhand writing than typing. I know — crazy — I’m a blogger, right? Nevertheless, journals and scraps of paper with crazy ideas scribbled on them litter the diva den. There’s no rhyme or reason to it either — just a scattered pile of random thoughts. I’ve been combing through the chaos and have found some promising scribbles. A few years ago, I did a good deal of free writing, where I would sit down for ten minutes and write whatever crept into my head. The goal was to write continuously without correcting myself — no mark outs, no erasures, no go-backs. I have a bad habit of spending time correcting what I just wrote and forgetting where I was going with it. The thoughts will just leave, if you let them. Anyway, I thought that it would be fun to introduce one to my site from time to time.
So, without further ado, let me introduce:
The Black Cat
The cat had been following Natalie Portsmouth — his black fur blending into the shadows he followed — for blocks. She ducked into the convenience store for a soda, and as her boots hit the sidewalk again, the damned thing was walking at her side, purring and attempting to rub against her legs. She hated cats. They were too much like shallow women — temperamental and vindictive. She tried to brush him off several times with no success. Finally choosing to walk on ahead, he turned to look back at her before slinking into the dark ally. Was she really being beckoned by a mangy cat? “I don’t have time for this bullshit,” Natalie said to herself.
All the time commanding herself to walk straight ahead, she slipped down the black street in search of where the wretched creature had gone. Curiosity always won out with Natalie. In the darkness, she was met by a glowing set of eyes at the end of the ally. The shadow in the shape of a cat began to grow. Natalie nervously looked up and realized that the blinds were down on every window she could see. This was one of those neighborhoods where no one ever saw anything. For most, it made life in Westbrook easier. She looked back to the glowing orbs in the darkness. The shadow was no longer that of a cat, but a man in a duster with wild, moon-like orbs for eyes.
“I should’ve known that you’d choose a cat,” Natalie spat at the shadowed figure.
He moved closer and his wicked grin caught in the light. His yellowed teeth clinched together tightly in an expression that, Natalie thought for sure, pained him. Rex Morganson was a high guard of the dark fae. Any business that he had with her couldn’t be good.
“You’ve fucked up this time missy,” and without any further explanation he grabbed her wrist. A black ring of energy wrapped up her arm tightly. An explosion of root beer sprayed everywhere, as the bottle hit the ground and spun.
“Let me…” was all that escaped her lips before they disappeared into the darkness.