Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Archive for the tag “writer’s life”

The new life starts here & Do not pet the humans

The charity anthology Do Not Pet the Humans just got published and is now available from Barnes & Noble and Amazon Kindle. Here’s another of my stories that (sadly) did not make it.  Enjoy!

The new life starts here

Recently I met someone. There was an immediate chemistry between us I preferred not to quantify – I didn’t know how. For unknown reasons they wanted to be my friend. Ours was a sudden undeniable connection, visceral and at the same time not quite sexual. And as new to me as this was, I found myself uncharacteristically going along with it all, not knowing why or how this was leading.

In less than two weeks we’d gone from what can only be described felt like a predestined encounter by divine intervention , to… this.

Where you to look up ‘magnetic’ in a dictionary, you’d find their name next to it as a practical example. Caragh.

Standing an inch taller than I, Caragh had poker-straight black hair that reached below the collarbone with a long 60s style fringe framing an oval face; fair skin and lively deep blue eyes. With an easy smile that was highly contagious and a presence both intense and exhilarating – magic incarnate. When they was around I felt cherished in a way I’d never really experienced before.
When they smiled it was nigh impossible not to smile back. More intrigued than flattered, it opened up a curiosity I did not know I harbored and I suspected I was given a practical lesson in integrity as well.
Thus I found myself feeling wooed by this captivating individual so unlike me in every way.

When we were together I felt whole, more so than I had ever experienced before. It was only when we were apart I wondered if or when the other shoe was likely to drop, if they’d laugh at me for my folly in thinking them serious, though they never gave me any reason to suspect an ulterior agenda.

I still could not help but wonder why me?

Some time during our third get-together Caragh somehow communicated they wanted me to be their girlfriend. To my own surprise I sort of agreed, if somewhat hesitantly. At the same time I found myself a tad amused and wondered where this was going.

I’d never had a girlfriend – or any desire for one – but I still decided to follow along, at least for the time being, for as long as I felt comfortable. Who knew? Caragh had not made any attempts to kiss me or anything, and after all lips are lips, right? I’d never fancied an other but firmly believed you fall in love with a person, not their sex or gender. What if they expected me to have sex? What then? Cross that bridge when we arrive, if we get there.

The fourth time we met up, they was waiting for me perched on a dry-stone wall, their face almost level with mine. As always Caragh looked lovely, today wearing a white and violet striped boatneck top, a black skirt skimming the knee, opaque tights, and lace-up shoes I’d seen before and already knew to be DM’s.

I could not let go of wondering if I’d somehow agreed to something I would not be able to live up to.

Perhaps it was all in my head?
Or if this was some joke played on me and I’d end up the laughing stock of everyone who knew me.

But Caragh was here and so was I. I returned their joyous smile and told myself to live in the moment.

Up close facing them I noticed a subtle change. At first I thought nothing of it, then it became more apparent and impossible to ignore. In front of my eyes they slowly became thinner until their hips were no more than six or seven inches wide, the waist so narrow even my small hands could easily have encircled it, their arms and legs long and beyond slender. And strangest of all, the clothes still fit. Tick. Time around us had managed to stop.
The only thing that was still the same was Caragh’s head and shoulders. Now the striking blue eyes grew larger and took on a grey sheen. It didn’t immediately compute what I was seeing.

Then I heard their voice, so peaceful, in my head, without passing through my ears. “I am your friend. You know me so well.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” I wondered.
I wanted you to see for yourself instead of trying to find words to tell you.”

“You don’t speak a lot but when you do you’re always eloquent.” My non verbal voice sounded gruff without meaning to.

“I AM your friend.” The words were so inclusive and the intent behind them a comforting and reassuring hug.
From having been taller than my five foot six, their physical form was now slightly shorter and willowy, in sharp contrast to their so solid presence.

“I wanted to get close to you, to be your friend here too, and this was the only way I could do so without frightening or creeping you out. What has this planet done to you to make you so guarded and suspicious my sistar? My love is not conditional; we really have known each other for aeons!

I wanted to put your mind at rest. I also wanted you to know the truth. I want to be upfront for I am honest.

I don’t expect anything from you that you do not freely want to give. I am not male or female and neither are you. None of us are. Or rather we are both. It does not matter. It is only for procreational purposes our bodies are male or female. Your soul IS. Do not be afraid of me or what you fear I will somehow expect from you.

I AM, and so are you. And will be again. Friends?”
I nodded mutely.

Outside of time their hand reached out and gently caressed the side of my face. Three long, slender fingers shimmered almost translucent in the low late afternoon sun.
For a moment that stretched like an eternity I remembered everything. Everything. Sensations I have no words for rippled through my body. Then it was gone again, leaving an invisible shimmer of a memory I could not quite reach…

Caragh – in as much as I could say I knew them – was back. Slid down off the wall, miraculously without laddering the tights, and gave the black skirt a quick brush off.

“Do you want to go for a coffee? My treat.” Caragh winked theatrically at me and for one moment I once more saw them all as the beautiful eternal being they were when not confined to one physical human body – no matter how attractive- as well as the friend I had come to know and would in time love like so many times before.

“Absolutely” I replied.
For a moment Caragh looked serious.

“Nothing is certain. Be open to possibilities you never knew.”
“The new life starts here!” I smiled.

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The angst of a first draft left to cure

I’m considering taking a look at Seeds of Soultraction and I’m scared. It is the sequel to Andino Andina and number two in Seeds to the wind and I absolutely loved writing it, cranking out thousands of words a day and enjoying every minute. My whole life I’ve detested mornings, yet during that time I had no problems getting up and eager to get sufficiently caffeinated to start my writing day. At the end of each day I was still so fired up I couldn’t sleep. I was happy and inspired doing what I love.
Until one evening…which was meant to be just a quick run to the supermarket for a couple of things we needed. Lights left on, food ready awaiting our return to have dinner. Only it didn’t work out that way.
It was 8 months until I could sit up in reasonable comfort, months of painkillers etc that left me mentally on par with vegetables, and over a year before I could put away the crutches. In addition I’ll probably need a splint for the rest of my life.

The manuscript is where I last saved it on the laptop and a thumb-drive and I’m terrified it won’t be as inspirited as I remember.
Or that I will be accused of cultural appropriation, when in my heart it is a love letter to a people that have fascinated me since my very first encounter, long before I was in double digits or had started school. All without being able to find the thread that connects us, in this world or the next.

So much has happened since 2015, I will have to go back and read up on other goings on come to light…because time has ticked away.
It saddens and worries me because it was meant to be the ‘mystical Seeds book of love’ and now there are all these other developments to take into consideration as well.That said, it is long overdue such despicable treatment and practices of indigenous people are being brought out in the open and dealt with, thanks to such dealings and conduct no longer being tolerated from a higher perspective. Maybe it will add depth as opposed to just making it darker?

Regardless, in the microcosm of things I still have my personal conundrum of going back and reading and rewriting/finishing the manuscript. Perhaps I could look at it as going from the first throws of falling in love with my story, the flush of infatuation, now to be followed by the entering of reality and seeing things as they really are when every day life kicks in. It could go either way… perhaps it has already past it’s best before date – or it will ripen and deepen into true love and something rather magical. I don’t know. I hope so.

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Red’ed, Rojito update

Red is doing very well, he’s got his appetite back (and then some!) but he is still very skinny. I guess putting some meat back on the bones needs to happen slowly rather than fat.IMG_20160420_171125

He’s such a writer’s cat: he sleeps when I work and only ever interrupts if I’m late with their dinner.

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Being greeted with his sweet little face (and Milou and Tabita) in the morning reminds me that every day together is a bonus, a gift of allowing us to love them.

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