Contest The 12 Sentence Story - Winner Announced!

So... I give it a try with my Story^^

Twelve Sentence Story “A Monologue to the Moon”

1 It was a cold, starless night and the moon was almost hidden behind a veil of Mist.

2 Through the Darkness a pair of velvet Paws entered a cold wall, slippery from the Rain which was falling during the misty day.

3 In a blink of an eye a big Shadow stands there, on top of the odd brink wall in the heavy Darkness.

4 Which moves quick and graceful.

5 Soft and silent.

6 A pair of yellow eyes glowing out of nowhere.

7 Sharp teeth flashed as he showed of a bright Smile.

8 Now the Moonlight was giving a glimpse of the Grace.

9 “So there I am”, he says not without pride, “A King with a big Kingdom to reign, a King with a lot of subjects to care about”.

10 He took a deep breath of the cold air as he sighed: “All night I take a long, a lonely strail around my Kingdom to make it peaceful and save”.

11 He looked up to the now cloudless Moon, as if he was listening to his melodic voice.

12 “And here I am again, standing under your cold silver Moonlight – the King without a crown…”

*English is not my first Language but I tried^^

 

1.Dusk had long fallen across the land, leaving the world bathed in darkness.

2. He paced back and forth, his golden eyes filled with curiosity, though the bags underneath serve to tell another story.

3. He didn't know how long he would have to wait, or if he was just wasting his time.

4. Maybe if he waited long enough it would happen, but maybe he was a fool.

5. No one could tell you what he was thinking as he stood alone in the parlour, staring at the clock, his long ears mimicking each movement of the hands.

6. Tick, tock, tick tock.

7. The clock rang out its beautiful melody as it smaller hand and larger hand stopped at the twelve, signaling midnight.

8. He let out a breathy sigh and he sat on the love seat, hand clasped against his chest.

9. Why did it feel like the world was crumbling around him.

10. This couldn't be happening.

11. He looked towards the front door as tears gathered in his eyes.

12. "I guess you won't be home tonight..."

 

The Sahara was hot, scorching, dry; the Nile was cool, green, and welcoming.

Amber eyes surveyed the shifting sands, a silent yet commanding figure in gold and white linen.

An ear, large on the top of her head, twitched as a locust tried to land on her.

The slaves were making their way across the sands, a long line of Hebrews whose "God" saved them from the Pharoah's whips.

A low growl, dragged from the depths of her diaphragm, rumbled through the air.

The Pharoah stepped up beside her, reached out a hand and brushed it against the back of her hairless head.

"They will be back," he said, his deep voice soft, promising.

"They will make your palace for you; I will not leave it unfinished."

The cat headed goddess purred, her only sound, her agreement, before she turned from the desert and walked deeper into the Pharoah's home.

She stopped outside a room, where a baby lay soundly sleeping on a cradle of reeds.

Of course Pharoah would keep his end of the bargain, he had no choice.

After all, she held his son's life--the life the Hebrew God tried to take away--in her hands.

 

"The Cost of Love" by Sammyjo421

Her fiery golden eyes lingered on the stars shining high above her fragile city.

Once a goddess among those stars Bast was cast down by her father for falling in love with a man.

The human she had fallen for was a king in both a mental and physical form, strong, kind, caring and wise.

To her father – Ra – He was just a man who didn’t deserve the love of a goddess especially one with beauty such as hers.

Her cat like facial features were set in her face as she sat on the chair quietly contemplating everything that has happened over the past year.

War had raged between her kingdom and the kingdom to the Far East and they had lost so many men she didn’t know where the body count would stop.

Her king went to fight every day and every day she would watch the horizon, and hope that he would come riding over the sand.

Maybe this was her punishment to be alone for the rest of her life, to wait everyday hoping the man she loves would come back to her.

She didn’t care that her father left her in her cat form, that she didn’t possess the beauty she once did as a goddess all she cared about was seeing his face again.

The door behind her quietly opened and she turned her eyes hopeful, only to see the small servant boy running into the room with a tray of food.

She rubbed her swollen belly, as tears began to fill her eyes the reality of her situation finally setting in and when the door clicked shut she didn’t even turn around to look knowing it was just the servant leaving her alone again, but to her surprise a strong loving voice spoke the words she waited to hear for days.

“I’m back, it’s over – I will never leave your side or our child’s side again.”

 

When the capsule hit the earth, I was off and running, with ears attuned to any sound that might mean danger. We already knew that this planet was amenable to our existence, in atmosphere, flora and fauna, and also a plentiful source of food, but there were bound to be hostile life forms as well. I was the last scout, paws on the ground, charged with making the final decision as to whether or not our kind would emigrate to this “Earth”.

It was dark when I arrived but my vision was unimpaired, I was grateful for the cover from other creatures not so well-adapted to the night. My first stop was for water, a small but clear puddle formed most likely by a recent rain, delicious and soothing, rejuvenating after a long flight. Then I spotted something—the slightest movement in the surrounding plant life, and a faint squeak, no doubt inaudible to many ears, but obvious to mine. And the scent! Oh, the unbearably delicious scent—of food, nourishment long awaited, and acquired with one quick, silent pounce, one killing bite, skills undamped by either time or distance.

I’ve been instructed that there are beings here, not unlike ourselves, an ancient race at times revered; in other ages, reviled. Will they accept me—all of us—as co-inhabitants of this world, can we assimilate? I am hopeful, for their understanding and their welcome. For didn’t they too come from many stars away, so many aeons ago?

 

"Detective Bolero" By HallowHawlk


1. Evie's hand firmly clutched his.

2. His large semitransparent ears pushed back in submissive anger.

3. He took anxious breaths through mouth half open exposing his wet teeth and curled tongue in a manor he assumed displeased her, for Evie's kind had never been found of his.

4. They looked over the large machine, its movable arms and gears creaked and sputtered as they jetted to and fro.

5. Such a light emitted for the inter most workings it bathed all near it in an orange haze.

6. ”I'm sorry” he half whispered to his companion “I never meant to drag you into this” Evie's slender face looked at him in horror as they were forced closer to the gondola's edge, closer to the machine and it spitting hissing parts that gnashed like teeth.

7. The pistols barrel was shoved hard into his back, hard against his spin and ribs and made him lurch.

8. “I cant figure what you hoped to accomplish by coming here Bolero” Said the man who's strong grip was upon the pistol, finger delicately over the trigger “And with a human girl in toe” The man chuckled his asp's tongue flickering as he drew his mouth closed.

9. The man kicked Evie's leg from under her and she slipped over the edge.

10. She cried out, grip about his wrist her small body suspended fifty feet above the machine who's mouth awaited them.

11. Just then he heard it, the sound of a pistol shot.

12. His body not his own failed and slumped off the gondola's edge, him and Evie plummeting head long; was this really how their story ended?

 

Cat Related Vices (aka, I dunno where I was going with this, but this is what I got from that image) - by Steph


1“Shouldn’t you be prowling for your home among strays, or lounging in the sun..." Her fingers were knitted together on her lap, as she sat across the way from him, “That’s always what you’ve been up to, what you do, after all...”

2It hadn’t gone unnoticed that the lady had left out a silver tray with the small bits of catmint leaf, along with his preferred pipe, before he had arrived. 3However, if he had acknowledged the thoughtfulness of such a gesture, as subtle or even as bare as it was, it was as bare in return as he carefully picked up the pipe with spidery-long fingers, “I thought you entreat me to be more of a ‘home buddy’, as it were?”

4She shrugged and continued attempt at matching his aloofness, though her eyes did dart to the pipe as it was lit. 5Licking her lips as the match was put out, and she patiently waited for him to take his first two, three, six puffs of the pipe before speaking up again…

6“Nothing so desperate, home buddy, nothing so desperate.” His eyes went to slits at being called such a thing, but normally so proud, barely. 7Already he had mellowed, lightly stretching out before lying back, slack, purring lightly if not absently.

8It wasn't that he was being tricked, he reasoned, somewhere inside the fog of his own mind. 9He was merely...letting her win, and he wouldn’t possibly let himself consider it any other way. 10It was, after all, for all intents and purposes…a win-win situation, and nothing so desperate.

11Rising to now watch him purr up close, writhing slowly on his seat with his eyes quite visibly dilated—when he started rubbing the sides of his face with the back of his gloves hands, the woman tightly clenched one hand into a triumphant fist and pulled out her mobile phone with the other, “Fuck yes.” 12As she recorded her minute long video, pleasantly fun ideas of possible filters or songs to enhance the moment bounced around in her head.

 

He was beautiful, with his long black hair and goatee, large round eyes and accented cheekbones, and to call him anything else was to insult to the Gods themselves. He and his wife, ruled over the lands as far as the eye could see, and they ruled well and just, if not always appeasing to the plain folk. The Pharaoh was once called upon to judge a case between two common peoples, where one accused the other of taking their son.

"He stole him in the night, right out of our house!" said one man, while the other vehemently exclaimed that it was a lie and he'd never seen that man nor his son before; however, the son, a boy of eight years, could not be found.

"Perhaps the boy ran away," the Pharaoh suggested, watching both their reactions.

The father seemed taken aback, angry by the suggestion, "Never!" he shouted, while the other man seemed delighted by the possibility - too delighted.

"Until the boy is found, I can do nothing." he said, turning them both away. The father was angry at this, cursing the Pharaoh, calling all of the royalty and the other man sly like cats and accusing them of being in on the kidnapping together. The guards took the man away for the insult to their king and locked him away.

That night while the Pharaoh slept, he dreamed of cats, and awoke the next morning to his wife's scream; her face was that of a cat, and when he ran to her, he saw in the mirror that his was as well.

That day while the Pharaoh and his wife hid, the little boy was discovered among the Pharaoh's slaves. The man had brought the boy to the Pharaoh before and claimed he was a thief, and the Pharaoh sentenced him to serve for his crime.

 

1 So CAT thinks he's the only advanced feline in the Universe, does he? 2 Those Red Dwarf clowns have no idea what a truly refined bloodline can produce. 3 Simply gaze upon my ears, designed to hear every whisper from across the room, or in the next one. 4 My eyes not only see through the dark but into your soul, revealing your deepest secrets. 5 My body, although humanoid, retains the flexibility and lithe muscularity of my ancient ancestors, who roamed the Egyptian deserts on far away Terra.
6 What have humans become? 7 Nothing new, certainly. 8 While my species turned into the superb Feline race, culminating in myself, humans still retain markedly Neanderthal characteristics. 9 Cat, silly though he might be, manages to outshine his human companion continually. 10 I do not count the others on that junk freighter, obviously. 11 Robots and holograms do not figure into this discussion on evolution. 12 I am Raoh, the true child of Bast, ready to amaze you!

 

He sat in contemplation, coolly aloof.

Her flirtatious attempts to rouse his attention turned to clumsy clowning before his regal repose.

Offerings of tempting delicacies had no effect upon his meditative demeanor.

Still he sat, patiently waiting.

She did not anticipate the true nature of his desire, the calm exterior masking the inner sense of suspense.

His muscles tightly wound, eyes ever vigilant, keeping a close watch on the room.

Expectation pricked his ears as his tail silently flicked.

Time seemed excruciatingly frozen while he waited in expectation tantalizing his imagination.

He must remain vigilant, prepared at any moment for its mysterious return.

The dot, the inexplicable dancing red dot was all he could think of.

When at last the door opened, his human returned in a flurry of bags, books & bother.

“What a day, I lost my laser pointer on the way to lecture this afternoon!”

 

• Calm and placid, his eyes gazed over the city that lay at his feet, dusk fallen upon it and the last vestiges of sun making the windows light up like lanterns.
• "This was my father's, once," he said quietly to no one in particular, though it was true.
• He came from a proud lineage of kings, and once all of the lands East of the Nile had been the property of his family, though that was millennia past, and a different sort of people had changed it in ways they called "domestication", but he knew to be godlessness.
• He sighed, turning towards the disappearing sun.
• Strange, it was almost as if he'd seen his father in those final rays, but that was, of course, absurd.
• His father had been dead for centuries.
• As he pondered this sad truth a hawk-masked figure appeared before him, startling him from his reverie and brandishing a crooked staff, dressed in ancient garments that baffled the eyes.
• "Son, this land, once that of my father, and before that his, and so on until the dawn of time, was always ours.
• It will always be ours.
• We were never it's kings, but the descendants of the legacy of Ra, and you the eye of his, children of Sekhmet such as you and I are."
• It was at that moment that his memories returned, gathered from millennia of past lives, he felt power unbridled flow through him as he surveyed the modern Egyptian city at his feet, suddenly confident.
• "Tonight, then," he said, embracing his strength, "We take back our city."

 

There once was a village near Thebes,Egypt and it had an inn.A cloaked figure approached the inn and ordered a meal and a bed.The inn keeper showed him a nice room with a cold hearth a decently soft bed.When the inn keeper returned,there was a unnaturally blue fire in the hearth.

"You magical or something?"

"Yes,meow,"the cloaked figure said,while drawing back his hood,revealing a handsome,regal-looking cat head."I'm Frank 3rd generation descendant of Bast,goddess of cats." The inn keeper just about fainted from having a descendant of a goddess in his little inn.

Frank ate his meal quietly and went to bed.He dreamed of helping the cat people everywhere create a land of their own.He woke up,paid his bill,and started on his great work of life improvement for every cat everywhere.

 

‘So…what’s it to be?’ a contented, feline figure called from a comfy, but humble-looking couch.

'Your rebellion cannot last; Ashes, when compared to the Australian government…it’s on a timer and you know it,’ he declared smugly.

‘A split of information between Egypt and Ashes?’ said the curvaceous woman, her glistening caramel skin clad in crimson silk.

She took a long sip of her tea and stood, red and black hair bouncing about her shoulders.

‘That’s a joke, right?’ she said, her open palm towards him, wings suddenly ablaze behind her.

Gold shone in the feline Wonders eyes as they reflected the phoenix’s fire. ‘How else can a rebellion be expect to last, you need me, you need the might of Egypt!’

‘You misunderstand, I never go into business with a Wonder without knowing their angle.’

The servant fanning them reached a hand up to his face, pulled at it as though it were a mask.

To the horror of the feline king it proved to be just that: a mask as flawless as real skin.

A shadowy face beneath that of his servant, one his did not recognize.

His trembling visage turned back to the fabled phoenix of Ashes.

'You would betray our cause for international acclaim and all I need of such a person, of anyone who would undermine Ashes, is to burn!'

 

Okay thought I would give this a go.

1 "Goodbye dear friend," He said as he stood there in the pouring rain, it was as if the sky was crying for his sorrow.

2 He let his memories take him back to the day they first met, he had been no more than a kitten, and she was no more than five.

3 She'd smiled at him, that's what made him notice her, how different she was from the others.

4 Most of the other children in the home had laughed at him, or screamed, after all a cat boy was not something you saw every day, or at least not any more, not since the epidemic.

5 He had been playing with some blocks in the playroom, when she was wheeled into the room, taken out of the wheelchair and propped up in an armchair on the far side of the room so she could look out the window.

6 She sat there quite calmly for a child of five, he noticed her looking at him, most of them did, but when he turned to face her she wasn't looking back at him in horror, she was smiling.

7 It was a smile unlike any he had seen before, because she wasn't just smiling with her little pink mouth, but also with her eyes, they were brown eyes so unlike his own pale green, and her face was framed with the lightest blond curls.

8 From that day, from that moment, they became companions for each other for the rest of their lives in the home for lost and unwanted children.

9 They grew up together, facing the obstacles of life hand in paw, it was hard for her, she had lost her legs from the knee down in the fire that had torn her house apart, and he was a feline halfbreed, acceptance and respect from their follow orphans was something they would never gain.

10 But they had each other, until they turned eighteen, soon one birthday passed, and then another, and another, the home was set to close the day before her eighteenth birthday, and he couldn't imagine how their lives would change, they were together no matter what.

11 It had been raining that day too, when a hand knocked on the big oak door of the home, a hand that belonged to the man that would take her away from him, the man was handsome, young and had a great deal of money, all of which she couldn't care less about, but she needed someone who could take care of her, and a home to keep her warm.

12 This all came back to him now 10 years on, she had married the man begrudgingly never seeing her feline friend again, but he was alright he thought to himself, he'd made a name for himself as an illusionist, but here he was standing outside their window watching her play with their children from the wheelchair, they caught each other's gaze for only a moment, but it was enough, and he continued walking down the street purring to himself half bitterly pondering the life he'd been given...

 

From behind him, on a scorching breeze, came the scent of flowers in the sun. Before him, in the glow of light reflecting on the sand, was the city he’d arrived to heal and come to love. Nefertem shifted slightly on the chair he reclined on, the only one in the room beautiful enough to be worthy of him; the movement filled the entire space with the fragrance of blue lotus.

His ear twitched when a hand laid on the chair back, just behind his shoulder. “You look at it as if you hardly believe you’re in the same plague-ridden city you were called to by our prayers – as if you don’t realize you’re not actually bound to stay in it.”

Without turning, Nefertem rumbled in an unmistakably content purr, “My queen, you speak as if your prayers actually held me bound to even heal the plague-ridden city in the first place.”

“And yet here we are – me, the queen of a people who’d lain dying, the queen who’d prayed to a god of healing to bring her beautiful city back to life; and you, the god who returned the light to her home, then chose to stay amongst those who’d believed in him… and even began adding to their numbers.”

Nefertem growled, though without malice. “Are you complaining?”

The queen laughed as she came round to stand next to Nefertem; the god’s claws curled around her distended abdomen, heavy with child. “My love, I quite happily assisted in adding to that count, or have you forgotten?”

The sound of purring and the rich, pleasant scent of lotus flowers that filled the room served as Nefertem’s answer, and he and his queen looked out over their city together: a city full of life, where their child would have a life as well.

 

They thought I was a goner.
Shotguns, shipwrecks, cyclones, even a hot-air balloon, and they thought that would be enough to take care of me?
Silly people.
I love the way they panic when I stroll back into town, a little swagger in my step.
I've got way more than nine lives, baby.
Old Mister Johnson is going to have his hands full with me.
He can keep handing me off, make me someone else's problem all he likes.
It doesn't make a difference to me.
I'm Mister Johnson's problem, from now until the end of time.
I've got seven little kittens, and they're just like me.
We just can't stay away.
This cat comes back the very next day.

 

1. "Tell us another one, Grandmama, please oh please," the little ones gathered at her feet entreated of her in unison.

2. She'd been talking for hours it seemed, regaling her small charges with the adventurous tales of a long, long lifetime...after all, she'd had nine of them.

3. Tales of back when she was a cute young kitten, when the avenue was filled with excitement oozing from every secret doorway in every hidden speakeasy, and the tittering laughter of girls with bobbed hair and bright red lips made up like bows spilled out into the warm night.

4. She still had her luxurious fur back then, and a rakish svelte body that had been so fashionable in those times, turned just plain boyish and skinny now with age of course.

5. But back then she was, as everyone agreed, 'the cat's meow'.

6. Running a barren paw over her wrinkled, hairless head, she proceeded to entertain her fluffy charges with suspenseful tales of mobsters, fast cash, sleek cars, and how she and Bugsy had once hid out beneath the police van during a raid when their favorite humans were captured.

7. Good times she mused, back when she was young, and in that moment wondering whatever happened to Bugsy.

8. And then the sixties rolled in like a gray fog and she described a cold, wet landscape that see-sawed between smoking herbs in San Francisco with a wannabe rock band, and inspiring the human Mary Quant to paint her eyes tabby cat-like on Carnaby Street in London as they got ready to go out clubbing with a fab four (or was it five) who never quite made it in the charts.

9. Wide eyes all around her now, rapt attention to every word as she gestured with emphasis to the wide strip of decorative kohl she still stubbornly adorned her eyes with to this very day, although her eyes had long since lost their sleek shine and whiskered lashes too, her one final vestige of a long forgotten, once fashionable vanity.

10. She briefly launched into a description of exercise videos, headbands, mullets, and the scent of human sweat, but cut it short when two of the kittens nodded off and she realized she pretty much felt the same way about the eighties herself.

11. But a little tabby one, bright-eyed, energetic and eager with the promise of youth, was still pleading in hushed tones, "More Grandmama, more please."

12. And she suddenly realized that she, too, was perhaps still young after all...forever young...as are we all as long as we still have stories left to tell.

 

"Here you are, Riften, home of the finest meadery in Skyrim," The wagon pulled to a stop and the driver gestured to the gate, "Be careful as it's also the home of the Thieves Guild".

Reji thanked the man, and walked towards the tents pitched by the stables.

He always tried to greet his own kind and do business when he came across the Khajit, on the road or in their camps just outside of the cities.

Pulling back his hood, he took in the smells of the lake, the cook fire of the camp, and the mixed stenches of the large hold of Riften.

Reji's speech was a bit shaky even after weeks in Skyrim, which was part of his preference in purchasing from Khajit.

When he'd tried to make a purchase in Whiterun it had been lots of meowing, gesturing and using the words that he did know in Nord.

"Meow meow sword meow meow, gold meow sword meow meow?" Pointing to the sword, and holding up his coin purse with an expectant face, while Belathor looked somewhat less than enthusiastic and charged him double as though Reji wouldn't know the difference.

"Khajit has wares if you have coin," Glittering eyes smiled up at him from the front of the tent, "Take a look."

Reji picked through and found a shiny new knife, a bow with a fire enchantment, and a handful of alchemy ingredients which he immediately shoved into his mouth making a "Blech!" noise and turning a funny color under all that fur.

Blinking slowly the world turned interesting colors and sound distorted around Reji as he stared, pupils dilating wildly for several minutes until things began to return to normal vision and Reji smiled at his Khajit cousin and paid with gems and coins for his new toys and shifted by the fire to stave off some of that wind coming off the lake.

"Why do you DO that?" Asked a Riften guard, visibly disgusted.

Reji blinked in response, "Meow meow what meow meow?"

 

For the record, I just want to compete for fun, not the prize. Also, dialogue kinda makes what counts as one sentence confusing, so that's why I numbered.

1 Her husband went down to his lab in the basement, their cat close at his heels. 2 This was not unusual, but when he had not come back up many hours later she began to worry. 3 She cautiously walked down the creaking steps, a tray of his cold dinner in hand, her mind revising a lecture on taking care of one's self. 4 "Don't come any closer," she heard him say as she reached the bottom of the stairs. 5 She peered into the darkness, but the faint glow from the equipment was not enough to allow her to see him.

6 "I was just bringing your dinner," she replied, the fear she discerned in his voice causing her to forget what else she was going to say.

7 "Please, leave me!" His voice sounded twisted and distorted, like it was a struggle to speak.

8 She caught some movement out of the corner of her eye, and turning she saw him standing there, his figure a dark silhouette.

9 "There you are," she said, walking towards him, "Now please stop scaring me."

10 It was then that her eyes adjusted and she saw that the figure did not have the face of her husband, but that of their cat, its eyes glinting in the darkness. 11 She turned and saw the head of her husband, his now feline shoulders sagging under the weight of an oversized head, his breath short and ragged.

12 And she began to scream.

 

"The Visitor"

His nails tapped on the back of the couch as he waited, impatiently, for his friends to return.
It had been at least five hours since they had left the house, and now the sun had set.
The clouds had been rolling in all day, and now the rumble of a storm could be heard in the distance.
"Where are they?" the sphinx muttered to himself, wondering how an errand run could turn into such a project.
He hadn't thought anything of it being so long, since he had gotten wrapped up in a book.

His ears swiveled forward as there was a soft knock at the front door.
"That must be them now, hands are probably full."
As he approached the door, a blast of cold air swung it open, almost knocking him off his feet.
On the porch stood a shadowy figure with tall ears like his own, but instead of eyes there were a pair of pale, glowing orbs.
The figure raised a gnarled hand and pointed towards him, claws coated in dirt and grime
The head raised out of the shadows and revealed a sphinx similar to himself, but the flesh had rotted away and all that remained was a skull full of sharp fangs.
The skull opened its jaw and a low voice growled, "Their time had come, and now it's your turn to follow them down the river..."

 

Apologies to Miyazaki! Also, this is just for fun.

1. He stands bereft.
2. She should be by his side, she of the emerald eyes, lit by the ephemeral rays of the setting sun.
3. He had taken her cool, porcelain presence for granted, but now he recognizes the stark difference between companionable silence and silent loneliness.
4. He misses her desperately.
5. They were two of a pair, a limited edition, and not to be separated.
6. But divorced they were.
7. Money can do that, enough money, a great enough sum to unshutter a shop long before the opening hour, enough to drag its proprietor out of bed, and make the man bow and scrape to a person who really doesn't even care about the things that really matter.
8. Like love.
9. And truth, and beauty.
10. But even self-avowed romantics must pay the rent.
11. He wonders if his love stands sentinel in another window, her eyes lanterns in the gathering dusk, a beacon to him, if only he could walk.
12. He hopes against hope that they will meet again.

 

It was raining in the city; rain that made the streets slicker than a hitman’s hair and colder than his heart.

The neon sign flashed OPEN, on and off, on and off, dirty reflection swimming in the puddles outside the hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon.

I pushed open the steamed-up door and the bell rang like the tinkle of doom, and there he was, behind the counter, the guy I’d come to see.

The first thing I noticed was his ears, big as the wings of a 747, pushing his chef’s hat back and letting me get a good look at that whiskered schnozz.

I won’t deny he wasn’t what I was expecting, but I walked over to the counter, sat down on a cracked green vinyl stool, and put my soggy fedora on the empty seat next to me.

All the seats were empty; there wasn’t a living soul in the place except me and him, and I wondered if my informant had steered me wrong.

“What’ll you have, Mac?” the chef said in a nasal snarl.

“I’ll take the house special,” I said.

With that, the chef went into action like a carnival ride on speed, whipping eggs and oil and flour and rolling out pasta and slicing it into ribbons with his claws, into and out of the boiling water and onto a plate with a river of blood-red marinara on top.

“Meatballs?” he asked.

I eyeballed the menu and said hastily, “No thanks."

So he slapped the plate down in front of me and I tucked in, and it was the best damn pasta I ever had, only I was a little sorry I hadn't gone for those mouse meatballs after all.

 

"Death of the King"

The feline king stood at the steps of the temple, bathed in golden sunlight that reflected off the jewel-encrusted collar and crown he wore.
His clothing was made of the finest spun linen, almost transparent in its weave, and it floated around him like a halo.
His people, the adoring public, screamed and cried for they knew what was to come when he stepped into that place and they did not want him to leave them.
The old king sighed.
He knew he could not stay forever, and his body was failing him.

The doors to the temple opened and the king ascended the steps to meet the figure that had stepped out.
The jackal-headed priest wore heavy linen robes, thick with the scent of frankincense and myrrh, a trail of natron salt in his wake.
He bowed to the king and held out his hand as a gesture of welcome and comfort.
The old king took the jackal priest's hand, and with that sealed his fate; the screams of the crowd growing ever more distressed by this.
"My name is Nascence, Birth, and I will take you to be reborn again," the jackal said in a soft voice.
"Thank you," the king sighed, a sad smile painted on his feline face.
The jackal priest led the old king into the darkness of the doorway behind them, into the cool sanctum behind that, to await his rebirth.

 

1. The great cats of the northern hemisphere had always been at war with desert tribes of Qisir Torpaq, a war fought in skirmishes in the darkest of night where the blood was just as black the sand.

2. From where they came no one knew as no records of their creation could be found in the annals of the Council's records, an alien race, an invasive species.

3. They were led by the Jackal King, a cat bigger than any of the others, walking bipedal most of the time instead of reverting to the usual four legged gait of the others around him.

4. Those who had seen him, who had survived the encounter, recalled his blank eyes and unflinching stare as he clawed through enemy ranks with shivers.

5. High King Arundel of Moskaw had tried to forge an alliance with them, had sent ambassadors with gifts of gold an silver but had been sent back the beheaded bodies, the heads never to be found.

6. At large the desert tribes had started to stay out of the part of Qisir Torpaq the Jackal King ruled over and the battles had started to get fewer with more and more time elapsing between attacks.

7. Until one day, the chroniclers realised, that no one could quite remember when the last report of an encounter with the northern cats had took place and they had to look back quite far in their books until they found any mentions.

8. An expedition was sent to Qisir Torpaq to investigate the territory but they came back, reporting to have found only sand but no trace of the cats or their king.

9. As a result, the chroniclers declared the cats extinct in annals, the strokes of the quill declaring the end of a race that had so long been a thorn in the High King's side.

10. It wasn't until the High King's daughters took it upon themselves to retrace the expedition's route that they found buildings buried deep beneath the dunes and as they dug deeper and deeper, the shapes of a palace started to emerge.

11. A plaque was found, declaring in the universal language that there lay Raoh, first of his name, known as Jackal King to his enemies who was the last one left standing when a plague came upon his tribe until even he had to succumb to death's call.

12. But, the plaque, declared further, during Götterdämmerung he'd raise again to extract revenge on those responsible of the genocide of his own.

 

He still wasn't used to it.

It had been a month now since Raoh had woken up as a hairless, long-eared monster.
Unable to comprehend how on earth this could have happened he had spent many hours in front of his mirror, touching his short snout with pointy clawed fingers, shaken in disbelief and utterly scared of facing the world.
What did he do to deserve such a fate, to be forced to live a life as a freak, different from anyone else?

Afraid how others would react to his grotesque appearance he had closed his doors, covered any windows and stopped going to work.
Friends and family had tried to reach him, knocking on his door and pleading to open it; but Raoh ignored their begging and just went deeper into his isolation.
Sooner or later he had to accept though that he either had to leave his house or die of malnourishment.

He was standing in front of his mirror again, looking at the face that still didn't feel right, didn't look like him.
A deep breath and he walked down the corridor to his front door, reaching the handle with his shaking, clawed hand.
He blinked into the sun shining onto his face, a sight he had greatly missed in the last weeks.
The cute neighbour from across the street smiled and waved him, truly relieved to see him still alive.

He too was glad that another one of his episodes didn't manage to tear him down, and he was happy to see his human face in a reflection on a nearby car.

 

Entering just for fun, good luck to those competing for that gorgeous head!

I'm sure you've heard of the Sphinx of old.
An effigy of a human with a cat's body.
I have no clue who built that thing, but they must have been out of their mind.
To have the disadvantage of the muddled human mind, but be confined to the quadrupedal form, without the advantage of opposable thumbs?
That's most certainly the worst of both worlds.

You see, I am a modern Sphinx, the sophisticated, sensical version.
My head, my mind, is of the vastly superior feline variety, yet my body has been constructed with the advantages of the bipedal and dexterous form sported by those glorified apes, do pardon the expression.
This allows me, as you see, to dress like a proper gentleman, and of course, to offer you one of these canapés -- do forgive my manners.
Tuna or beef, pray tell?

But as I was saying, I am quite obviously the best of both worlds.
The best of any world, actually, if I may be so frank.
Now, you were here about the servant's position, weren't you?

 

1. She sits there staring outside, staring at the moon.
2. it's been 5 years as of today.
3. 5 long years in this "prison".
4. Even though the life of a cat is full of luxury, its still a life without total freedom.
5. She looks behind her when she hears her companion yawn, he is fast asleep on the comfy couch, she smiles.
6. He is very happy with this life.
7. But he has been here sinds he was a kitten.
8. She looks back outside and wonders if she will ever manage to escape through the door.
9. What she will do when she is out, she doesn't know.
10. But she does know it will be as adventurus as her life was before this luxuary.
11. She stands up and walks towards her water bowl and meal.
12. She grins as she secretly confesses to herself that eventhough she dreams about life outside again, she also will miss this life.

 

1. Artemis shifted uncomfortably on his knees, his eyes downturned as he tried desperately to escape the unwavering gaze of the shadowed being before him.
2. After a moment more of silence, out of the corner of his eyes, Artemis saw the creature shift into a more relaxed position on it’s throne.
3. It’s entire terrifyingly form became visible in the dull glow of the fire balls hovering far above them, and Artemis was aware of it’s feline-like characteristics.
4. “What troubles you child,” the creature asked, it’s breathy voice breaking the sharp silence of the cavern, “Are you not enjoying your stay in the Underground?”
5. “No sir- I mean, yes sir! I mean, I’m not sure why I’m here…” Artemis squeaked.
6. The creature rose, swiftly leaping towards the young captive.
7. Artemis closed his eyes in fear, but he could feel the creature crouching in front of him, it's breath tickling the child's tender neck.
8. “Do you want to know why you were lead to the Underground? Do you want to know how you can get out? I can show you, child. I can show you everything…”
9. Artemis timidly opened his eyes, instantly locking contact with the massive creature in front of him.
10. Tears stared steaming down the child’s face as he whimpered: “Why are you doing this? I just want to go home, sir. Why are you doing this?”
11. The creature smiled, showing off it’s blood-stained razor sharp teeth.
12. “Oh my child,” the creature purred, his four-fingered clawed hand caressing Artemis’ red hair, “Because I can.”

 

Felix Felicitus loved his job as wine steward of the fanciest restaurant in Paris.
He spent his days seeking out the finest vintages in out of the way villages and his nights overseeing the efforts of his underlings.
He did not often have to speak to the patrons of La Maison du Chat, for his reputation was that of the most regal of cats, and it was rumored that he had killed more than one man for doubting his expertise.
This night, he had settled into his office to review the inventory and budget for the necessary acquisitions when a nearly inaudible knock roused him from his concentration.
"Yes."
The door opened upon his most junior chef.
"Sir, there is another cat here who wishes to ... to challenge your right to your office."
"A challenge! Now!"
Felix Felicitus stood up, his narrow face fierce as he began to ready himself for the duel.
He took off his coat and waistcoat, standing in his finely pleated linen shirt, long fingers flexing as he thought about what vintages would best confound the challenger.
He would begin with a simple wine, something not too difficult for a discriminating palate, to lure the other into a sense of overconfidence...then, when the other was sure of victory, he would pounce and take another prize.

 

He opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut again, blinded by dazzling white light. As he drifted, fragments of memories fluttered through his mind. He thought of his mother, warm and loving as she cleaned him, felt a puff of pride as he recalled his first shaky steps across a cool tile floor. He remembered the day he had stepped through the Open Door and bounded over the fence that kept him from the rest of the world. The last memory he had was of crossing the hot, dark, hard earth. He had heard a squeal, a shout, and then there was darkness.

And then, there was light.

He looked down at his paws and flexed the new long fingers there, he tried to leap and stumbled over gangly legs and clumsy feet. As he fell, he caught a glimpse of himself one last time and saw his old face with its long nose, curly whiskers, and exaggerated ears. He smiled and said good-bye, then emerged into a new light that was not as pure as the other, but warm and inviting. He blinked at the blur of faces above him, was shocked at the din of excited voices from all around. He sucked in a breath, and then let out a cry of joy for his new life.

 

It had taken him a terribly long while to get used to the idea of submitting to the subconscious desires of his mind. You can't be different, his thoughts would always say. Wait a little longer before you allow yourself to be hurt.

Earth had become such an unkind place over the centuries. Human beings fought and killed over the smallest details, and it was clear that they were afraid of what was new and different. He had spent thousands of years trying to fit in with the societal norm, conditioning himself to bite back words and dress a certain way, terrified of the ostracism and shunning that came from those around him whom he deemed as friends and colleagues. He would become stigmatized in a short while, and eventually persecuted for who he naturally was.

But he had had enough of it, and stripping away the mask to unveil is true personality--a catty, sleek demeanor that would surely get him in trouble--actually felt relaxing. A strange sense of calm washed over him as he gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror, and he brushed his hands over his long ears, thinking to himself about how much humanity would curse him and see him as a monstrosity.

But Mother Bast will be proud of me.

He was not a cat, yet not a man, but his in-between gave him the deep understanding and relation to the two creatures in question. He was a peculiar oddity, and to him... that was the detail that made him stand out, allowing him to make a difference in a world that had long since forgotten the Gods.

 

He steadied himself on anything he could reach, staggering his way into bed.

As he curled himself atop his comforter, it was lost on him why he had begun drinking that night. He knew only that he never wished to feel such sorrow that would again drive him to it.

He briefly lie awake, gazing at his bedside clock; the face read 3:47 AM, and he pondered where the night had gone.

His ears pivoted at the sound of the front door opening.

What had kept her out so late?

It wasn’t important; all that mattered was that she was home safe.

The familiar pitter-patter of delicate claws on the kitchen’s tiles warmed him as he readied himself for the embrace of her arms—the tickling of her whiskers on the back of his neck.

It wasn’t until the sound of a cocking gun penetrated his drunken musings that his sleepy fog shattered and he remembered.

He had struck her.

She left him.

He lived alone.

 

Gods how he hates the rain and this accursed cloud that hounds him never straying far.

No matter how far and fast he runs it sniffs him out and chases him like a dog chases a shiny new ball.

"It was a harmless trick, just a lark, it meant nothing" he yelled at his dark, ever present, personal rain cloud.

Why could they not understand it was simply in his nature and could not be avoided.

The desert was his playground, where he didn't care who’s toes he stepped on and he was the jester god of this domain.

The pitter patter of the rain taunts him, it's almost as if each drop is whispering "careful who you trick little cat!"

The warm sun seems forever just out of reach, never able to fully bask in it's warm, delightful rays.

He glared at the little cloud while it excitedly rained on him, "why must you follow me like a slobbering lost puppy, hunting me to the ends of the earth and back."

The cloud rumbled happily in reply.

He sighed in defeat, falling back into the cool mud beneath him, remembering that dreadfully grim day when they were cursed and bound.

Twelve centuries under his damp, devoted little companion was a fitting punishment for one such as he they had laughed and this was to be his fate.

Would he miss his little cloud, when it relinquished its post and left his side, he wondered?

 

At first glance, Raoh appears to most as a refined gentlemen of excellent taste and refinement. He is not. In all honesty there is nothing nice nor the least bit gentle about him. Though many are fooled by his simple style, his casual clothes, the softness of his voice.

He is not a man you want to meet, nor even a man at all.

The truth lies only with those that see his true form; those who are lost in vice and sin. He's a vicious beast, cold and efficient, who stalks and claims his prey like a cat would a mouse.

Raoh is a dealer of death, an angel of suffering.

If you see him, it is already too late. Raoh, or perhaps even fate itself, has deemed you worthy of his time.

Pray that you never find him waiting.

For that is an experience none have lived to tell.

 

She bit her lip, trying to capture the graceful swoop of his ears upon the canvas. They reminded her of seashells, all curves and delicate ribbing, with the soft light from the window shining through them.

Halfway through a brushstroke she was interrupted by a meowling whine. "Are you done yet, I'm booored."

"Not yet, so stop fidgeting, I'm trying to get your ears right."

He sighed and leaned back on the chair, arm draped lazily across the back. "You know most people, when confronted with a cat god, tend to scream and run away, well that, or start asking me for favors; and yet you -insist- that I sit down immediately so you can paint me. Why is that?"

She sighed and abandoned her painting, collapsing in a heap next to him on the sofa. "Honestly at this point I think I've assumed you're a hallucination, and my art final is due tomorrow afternoon so I may as well take advantage of it."

She paused and looked again at the strange creature in her living room, lazily blinking in the early morning light. "Say, you wanna go get some coffee?"

 

His was a lonely existence.
As an almighty god of destruction, with the power to instantly destroy an entire universe, it was no wonder he had not a single friend.
All who dared to approach him cowered in fear, terrified of what he might do with his great power.
No one ever considered the possibility that he might not always be in the mood for destroying.
After all, such an activity required a great amount of energy, and most days he barely had enough energy to leave his bed.
He yawned and nestled under his bed linens, preparing himself for another boring day full of napping and eating the snacks prepared for him by his attendant.
He had just closed his narrow eyes when his pointed, keen ears picked up the sound of conversation in the hallway.
"No, I can't permit you to just barge into his bedroom!"
Despite the words of his attendant, his bedroom door flew open, and a stranger strode in.
Instead of bowing and looking away, the stranger remained upright and looked him right in the eyes.
"I've heard you're a really powerful guy, and I'm here because I'd like to get to know you better."
He felt his tail twitch in anticipation, for he knew that this day was going to be anything but boring.

 

His golden fur rippled like sun lit wheat in the glow from last dying embers of the fire. She stirred against him, warm and soft, her scent as dusky as her eyes. Easing her sleeping body from his muscular shoulder, he softly kissed her muzzle, inhaling the heady, moist scent of their lovemaking. The cubs would be waiting, hidden deep in the earthen den, silent as stone against the others who would snatch their tiny lives away. He was the Alpha, the king, and his word was law. She was his queen and he had fought and bled for her and he had killed. The memory of that bloody battle flashed before his mind's eye, the smell of hot blood still in his throat, the dying scream of the old Alpha still vivid and bright. The pack was his, to rule, to command, and the battles ahead would be legendary. She would stand strong beside him, their cubs growing and learning and scuffling for position. One day, the red, the largest of the new litter would challenge him to the death. But, tonight was their night, away from the pack, the responsibility of the young. She opened her amber eyes, stretched up to him as he raised his golden head and howled his saga to the new moon.

 

1. Sleek and cunning, altogether stunning.

2. To nap, to eat, to purr and to play.

3. A tail so soft and elegant to sway.

4. You will know, you will see, you are everything to me.

5. You, my dear, my love, my own.

6. It is for you that I have grown.

7. I will care for you, like you looked after me too.

8. Be mine, my sweet, my human pet.

9. Do as I say, you need not fret.

10. I am your guide, will be your light.

11. For I am your cat, that much is known.

12. And you are now mine and mine alone.

 

“I was only walking home you see, through the graveyard by the river. That’s where I sees them.
There’s all these cats milling around a marble tomb in the misty moonlight. They’re all sparkle-eyed and stalking back and forth. And I sees the biggest cat I ever saw jump to the top of the tomb. He sits up tall and opens his pointy toothed mouth. This big old cat calls out in a meowly growly voice, “Let it be known! The King of the Cats is Dead!” Then those gathered cats all called back in a purring murmuring chorus. “The King is Dead, long live the King!”
So, next round is on me, folks. It’s been an eventful night. ‘Cause now I’m the King of the Cats!”

 

Lazy Days

1 His eyes glistened, watching her every move as she fluttered by, duster in hand.
2 With every step she made, he followed her movements contentedly.
3 He continued to lounge on his seat, barely moving each time she came close.
4 Long ears twitching as she began to hum as she worked, you'd have been forgiven for having originally believed he was merely an ornament on display.
5 It was probably just laziness to some, but perched here he was exactly where he was meant to be.
6 It was best to stay out of the way as much as possible anyway, but that didn't mean he wasn't interested in what she did.
7 His role was to stay handsome, to stand above all regardless of station.
8 He did this well, but fascination kept him watching as she pottered about.
9 This unusual creature, obsessed with keeping everything clean...
10 "Are you ok there Sweetie?"
11 She leaned over and gently stroked his head.
12 Oh yes, lazy days spent watching his human pet was most definitely the best.

 

Raven was walking home from work her clothes along with her hair was soaking wet.
It was pouring down rain the lighting flashed overhead, the thunder rumbled beneath her feet.
Raven would love to be at her nice warm apartment right now but instead she is stuck in this mess ,unlike her friends she despised the rain.
As Raven was walking down the street she saw a figure dart out of the corner of her eye she hesitated and decided to follow the figure.
.A few minutes later she ended up in a graveyard, she realized that the "figure" that she saw was in fact a feline with it's big pointy ears, piercing green eyes and it's tail.
Little did Raven know that this feline was no ordinary feline he is an angel that was sent from Heaven to protect humans from demons.
This feline was given the name "Chamuel" in Heaven before he came to Earth.
Chamuel has protected the graveyard for centuries ever since the downfall of the demons, from the underworld they destroyed anything in their path and took many mortal lives.
No mortal would be safe from these monsters with how much damage they can do.
Earth would be in ruin if demons ever came back from the underworld and nothing would ever be the same.
People still see Chamuel sitting in the graveyard to this day protecting us humans from harm.
But what will happen when a human accidentally opens a portal to the underworld?

 

Five thousand years. For five thousand years he had patiently remained in deep slumber. For five thousand years he had anticipated his return to his people, his kingdom, his reign. For five thousand years he had expected to be welcomed back with reverence and awe. He awoke to find everything had changed. He was no longer in Egypt, the ancient Nile nowhere to be seen and his tomb desecrated, nothing left sacred; his birthright stolen from him for the pleasure of the people. He was enraged by the wonton acts of disrespect. He was a pharoah--a god! He was the morning and the evening star; should he call day, night and night, day so it would be written. But that time was no more. He looked forlornly out the window--no longer did the humans need gods of wisdom and power. They had moved on without him... and now he must move on from them.

 

Congrats, @Osaka !

 

HOLY CATS. (pun not intended)

Thank you, @iamkathybrown ! ^////^

 

Bravo @Osaka !!! I really enjoyed reading all the entries, but yours just stood out a mile! And I had the song stuck in my head all day at work. Brilliant

 

Heartfelt congratulations @Osaka! Your win was well deserved and I totally loved your entry. Each and every story in this contest was a fascinating and fun read. I so admire all your creativity! And a big thank you to our illustrious Mods for adding this contest to the anniversary festivities again this year. I love taking part, and I always get something wonderful out of it character-wise. Last year I shelled a new doll from my entry...and this year I realized I'd unwittingly fleshed out the character of a doll I already owned. And all that on top of the wonderful stories I get to read. It's truly an amazing contest!

 

Congrats @Osaka! Your story was very entertaining and it really stood out when I was initially reading through the entries.

 

Thank you all for your kind words!

@Deb@Play --I used to work in a nursery school, and that song is still stuck in my head. XD

@PoeticSoul --Thank you! ^///^

@amye.miller --I'm very glad that it stood out in a good way! ^///^

Everyone did an amazing job in this contest, and it was wonderful to see how many different ways everyone was inspired by this fellow. I would like to give a very special shout-out to my son, @DragonMouse , because writing is incredibly difficult for him, and he did a brilliant job writing and then typing up his story.

Well done, everyone, and thank you so much to the DoA Mods for having such a fun contest!

 

Congratulations, @Osaka! How wonderful!

 

Congratulations @Osaka ! Your story was wonderful.

 

@Osaka, @DragonMouse , congratulations to both of you! DragonMouse, I enjoyed your entry, and I appreciate how hard it can be sometimes to get something ready to enter! Keep it up!

 

Congratulations @Osaka. I now have that song stuck in my head.

 

^////^ Thank you so much, @Little Lu , @sakana_hime , and @baxterbrat !!

 

Congrats @Osaka! Your story was a good read!