Cat Eyes (Forward Motion Anthology 2013)

By J.A. Marlow

"Cat Eyes." What does it mean?

21 authors took on the challenge and came up with diverse answers. From literal cats, to idols, aliens, marbles, and so many other inventive possibilities. Genres vary from fantasy, science fiction, historical, superhero, romance paranormal, to humor, and more.

The Forward Motion for Writer's Anthology is an annual showcase of the multi-national writing talent at the venerable writer's group. The 2013 edition includes an active table of contents with works by:

Cat Scratch Feeder - Anne Alias
The Meeting - Lazette Gifford
Eyefall - James K. Earl
A Council of Cats - S.E. Batt
The Hair Loss Reversal Spell - Ashe Elton Parker
Souls in Tiny Hands - Parrish Riddle
Twitch of a Tail, Swipe of a Claw - Gera L. Dean
Hungry Cat - Tobe O'not
Lulu's Story - Lane Decker Davis
Autumn Storm - Necia Phoenix
Dogs and Cats - Connie Cockrell
Going Back - C. M. Clark
Breaking the Silence - Ray Beere Johnson II
The Deathstream Racers - A.J. DeVial
The Cat's Ritual - Seleane Gray
The Artifact - Jennifer Amriss
The Cat That Could Drive - Tobe O'not and S.E. Batt
Golya Kot - Susan Petroulas
The Cat's Eyes On You - Monk The Bard
Of Dragon's Breath and Cat's Eye - Catrin Pitt
Curse of the Second Date - J.A. Marlow

• Language: English
• Publisher: Star Catcher Publishing
• Release date: Oct 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311395429

J.A. Marlow

It's said I was launched into space from birth and I haven't been back to Earth since. There might be some truth in that. As a reader I love science fiction with great plots, interesting characters, exotic locales, all accompanied by a sense of wonder with optimistic endings. As a writer, I love the same.

Book preview

Cat Eyes

Forward Motion Anthology 2013

Edited by J.A. Marlow

Copyedited by Cassandra J. Ree

Exclusively Published By Star Catcher Publishing - Smashwords Edition

Starcatcherpub.com

Other Forward Motion Anthologies

A Princess, a Boatman, and a Lizard (2012)

Description

Cat Eyes. What does it mean?

21 authors took on the challenge and came up with diverse answers. From literal cats, to idols, aliens, marbles, and so many other inventive possibilities. Genres vary from fantasy, science fiction, historical, superhero, romance paranormal, to humor, and more.

The Forward Motion for Writer's Anthology is an annual showcase of the multi-national writing talent at the venerable writer's group.

NOTE: As the authorship is multi-national, both British and American spelling conventions appear.

Copyright

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Cat Scratch Feeder - Anne Alias

The Meeting - Lazette Gifford

Eyefall - James K. Earl

A Council of Cats - S.E. Batt

The Hair Loss Reversal Spell - Ashe Elton Parker

Souls in Tiny Hands - Parrish Riddle

Twitch of a Tail, Swipe of a Claw - Gera L. Dean

Hungry Cat - Tobe O'not

Lulu's Story - Lane Decker Davis

Autumn Storm - Necia Phoenix

Dogs and Cats - Connie Cockrell

Going Back - C. M. Clark

Breaking the Silence - Ray Beere Johnson II

The Deathstream Racers - A.J. DeVial

The Cat's Ritual - Seleane Gray

The Artifact - Jennifer Amriss

The Cat That Could Drive - Tobe O'not and S.E. Batt

Golya Kot - Susan Petroulas

The Cat's Eyes On You - Monk The Bard

Of Dragon's Breath and Cat's Eye - Catrin Pitt

Curse of the Second Date - J.A. Marlow

Star Catcher Publishing

Cat Scratch Feeder - Anne Alias

CAT SCRATCH FEEDER - Anne Alias

If it looks too perfect and too easy; don't touch it. The exception to my advice stopped peeking through the knothole of our love nest and twitched her tail toward me.

Voluptuous, vapid, and named for the bright copper color of human currency, Penny was practically perfect. At the very least, the girl’s appearance inspired me to overlook her lack of intellect and overabundance of burly, boneheaded brothers.

Why not? She tilted her ears and blinked wide eyes still slumberous from our interlude. Her slight pout had me reaching for her, wanting to keep her away from danger outside--and available for additional adventures inside.

Penny tittered and gave the sort of playful wiggle beloved by any red-tailed male. She liked games, and I liked playing with her, since the wrestling sessions offered such splendid rewards. But today she didn't want to wrestle. She escaped my grasp and skittered up the walls, racing around me in a heady whirlwind of fur and fragrance.

I leaped but missed, left with nothing but an irresistible invitation. Exhilarated by her challenge, I bolted after as she scampered up and around trunks and branches, her movements sinuous and seductive. Taking care to follow closely--but not too closely, lest the game end too swiftly for her satisfaction--I suddenly realized Penny wasn't leading me back to our cozy niche.

The new feeding center the humans stocked with nuts, seeds, and nibbles lured Penny, tempting her into the open.

No! I shouted a warning, lengthening my stride to stop her.

Penny sped up, making a spectacular leap. She landed on her goal with enough force to make it swirl in a wide loop around its branch, spraying seeds and settling into a gentle swing. Tittering in triumph, my own preferred delicacy waved at me.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one to see Penny as a delicacy. From the shadow of the shrubbery below, cat eyes gleamed with greedy hunger. As I sped up, time slowed, the world narrowing to a single scene.

A flash of fur. The swipe of sharp claws. Penny’s beautiful tail plumed as she plummeted through the air, only to be pinned beneath a vicious paw. Her shriek—of pain? Of fear?—shrilled through the air.

Rage pushed me to a moment’s madness. Without further thought, I flung myself from my tree, angling toward the feline who tried to claim my tail. The brisk bite of rushing air returned me to my senses long before I landed.

Fool! Red Tails are not a flying squirrels!

Then the impact knocked away all sense humor or hope. The cat’s thick fur—its winter coat not yet fully shed for spring—did nothing to soften the blades of spine and shoulder. Sadly, that shedding winter coat seemed more than happy to give up its grip and keep me scrabbling.

The infernal feline arched its back, hissing and twisting, spitting in fury but unwilling to relinquish Penny to claw at me. I could only be relieved the cat saw the value of a squirrel in hand. I clung to life by the thin threads of whatever fur didn’t rip free as I clawed and kicked, scrambled and sought firm purchase.

Gradually, I recognized a shift in my enemy’s maneuvers. She arched her back, rotated her shoulder blades, and twitched…but no longer bucked and twisted. Ominous growls and snarls no longer shook the furry frame I scrabbled atop. A more subtle version vibrated beneath my paws. Purring? The notion grabbed me as ruthlessly as she’d grabbed Penny. I stilled, concentrating on the pads of my paws, rotating my ears forward to catch any sound.

Purring! The instant I was certain, the sound stopped and a vengeful twist nearly sent me sailing. As I dug in, scratching my way back to safety, a rumble surged from shoulders to rump.

I made a point of raking my claws through her dense fur, testing for favorable response. I wasn’t surprised when I got it—no matter how monstrous the maiden, what female wouldn’t shiver with pleasure beneath my paws? And how else to explain this perverse parody of ancient myth? Before today, I never believed music might render a three-headed canine comatose, but my flexing claws certainly soothed this savage beast…

If only my back scratch brought on a cat nap, I would end this in an instant.

I couldn’t put the predator to sleep, but perhaps my impromptu massage could weaken its grasp just enough to let Penny escape its clutches. Then she’d be free to fall victim to mine. After all; a Penny saved was a Penny earned, and I fully planned to cash in!

The notion spurred me onward. Winding my front paws in thick hanks of fur, I kicked my back paws in a combing motion. The beast’s shudder sent me sliding in spite of my precautions. I held on and dug in deeper, kicking harder and cautiously edging back toward the cat’s spine with each pass.

I tried to think of my movements as claw combat, weakening my opponent with every swipe. She fought against my will, but in resisting the bliss of my methods the cat fought her own nature—always a losing battle. She shivered beneath my paws, purring uncontrollably, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders as her strength succumbed to my cunning. Perhaps foreseeing her failure, the feline attempted to engage me with verbal distraction.

Have you no pride, Squirrel, that you imitate an insect itching its way across a superior species?

How dare you liken me to an insect! And how can you call yourself my superior while you tremble at my touch? I increased the pace of one of my paws, gratified when the haughty beast’s insults became purrs, proving my point.

Insect! Thundered the cat when she could speak again. For mantises and spiders are the only males known to willingly lose their heads over a woman, yet you’ve gambled your life for this one!

I knew her paws tightened, claws extending, because I heard Penny’s shrill squeak.

Enraged anew, my motions grew larger, bolder, and now I attempted to distract my opponent in a desperate play for time.

I will lose nothing this day, Cat, but tell me how your reputation will suffer when I make it known that a mere squirrel defeated such a fearsome predator?

You will not! She roared, finally removing one of her front claws from Penny. Sightlessly swiping back, unable to see or reach me, she played into my paws. For I’d tested my terrain thoroughly, working back to her rump, and finding what I sought at the base of her tail. Her ‘jigger’ spot.

Every animal had at least one area more sensitive than the rest, where a simple scratch became so sharply pleasurable the sensation became debilitating. More often than not, when you hit someone’s jigger spot, it caused gasping and leg spasms, an odd sort of jig for which the weakness is named.

I attacked with every ounce of determination, shrieking with glee as the swiping paw fell to the ground, the enemy literally falling beneath my onslaught as her knees weakened. Run, Penny!

As my ladylove escaped her captor and raced out of reach, I dug my claws deep into my opponent's hide one last time, feeling her shudder in defeat as I leapt clear. I raced for safety, not looking back until I’d joined Penny in the safety of our knothole. From our perch high above, surrounded by the arms of branches too thin to hold any cat, we watched as the once-proud predator rose to her feet and slunk away.

After Penny showed her undying gratitude for my gallantry, my thoughts turned to my unwitting discovery of how to defeat a cat. I pondered how to turn today’s events further to my advantage. Perhaps I could do as I’d threatened, and blackmail the feline?

A tale had teeth only if believed, and too few would find the truth credible. Better to wonder whether the weapon could be turned toward negotiation—if a cat might offer safe access to the feeder in return for my scratching skills? What a simple solution for such an important issue!

Cat eyes, gleaming hungrily from shadows below, flashed through my memory and brought me back to my senses. A thwarted feline couldn’t be trusted to honor an agreement. That would be too perfect. Too easy. I’d adhere to my own advice and not touch that idea.

Then again…

No one said I had to be the one touching the cat. All I needed were a few squirrels without the sense to be scared—and I knew exactly where to find them.

I couldn’t hide my smile as I shook Penny’s shoulder. What do you say we go pay your family a visit? After all we’ve been through, I think it’s time I got to know your brothers a bit better…

The End

About the Author

Backstory for this identity has not yet been compiled. Please check back later when our database updates.

The Meeting - Lazette Gifford

THE MEETING - LAZETTE Gifford

The mouse taunted him, running back and forth on the edge of the porch where Fluffy stretched out in the sunlight, watching through slits as his amber eyes tracked the movement, arguing with himself. Sleeping in the warm spring sunlight was a rare luxury; after all, spring only came once a year.

Back and forth, back and forth, until he could take it no longer. Ears flattened as his tail stopped twitching and his muscles tightened. He was ready! But even as he leapt up and dashed for the horrid little creature, the mouse jumped off the porch and rushed into the underbrush.

He shouldn't have followed. The porch and sunlight still beckoned as he looked over his shoulder. However, his pride was at stake. He crashed through the underbrush, and squirmed on his belly through the leafy debris, following the damned mouse --

And the mouse lured him to a place he should never have gone.

Thump, thump, thump.

Fluffy recognized the sound and came to a breathless stop, his ears flattening and the fur on his back standing straight up. He saw it then: the glow of red eyes staring at him from the shadows.

The mouse had disappeared. He took a step backwards --

Oh, don't go, my good, fine Fluffykin, the familiar voice whispered from the darkness. Don't go yet.

And then he heard a horrible crunching noise and a loud swallow.

What -- what do you want?

The figure came out of the shadows in a single, almost silent leap, bringing with him a flurry of leaves and half-eaten food. His fur was a molted brown and one ear flopped over his right shoulder. He would have looked for like a big, lovable plush bunny except for the maniacal gleam in the big red eyes.

Fluffy hadn't seen his arch-enemy in almost a year. In fact, not since the battle of Mrs. Waterfield's Flower Garden late last summer. Fluffy's ear flickered -- the one with the big notch out of the top -- and he started to step back again.

I brought you here for a reason, Fluffykin. The rabbit pulled out a piece of food and began the horrific crunch, crunch, crunch as he ate more of the disgusting carrot. How could he stomach those things? Fluffy's blood curdled just watching him nibble at it.

What do you want, Bunnywomper? he finally asked.

The rabbit went still except for a twitch of his nose, a narrowing of the eyes, and then the thump again as the back leg batted the ground in agitation.

What did you call me? he demanded. Thump, thump, thump. Do we need to go through this again?

The rabbit leaned forward, dropping the carrot to the ground.

Ah. Oh. Sorry. Fluffy put both ears down and out of reach of the shiny teeth he could see too well. "Mister Bunnywomper. What do you want, Mister. Bunnywomper? Sir."

The rabbit settled back on his haunches and Fluffy let out a little breath of relief. Dealing with this lunatic had gotten more and more difficult the last few years.

We have a problem, my fine Fluffykin. It's our humans. They've given up the fight. My fierce little Millie has acquired more interest in the cheerleading squad rather than taking over the world, despite the urging of her mother. And your Dave? What is it with him? Football this year?

Band. He didn't like football. Too much like life in the superhero world with all that shoving and running. They're both bound to be busy, he said with a satisfied sigh. No more chasing after Millie and Bunnywomper to stop them from taking over the world. Some rest in the sunlight --

You fool, the bunny hissed. "You blind fool. We are the powers of the world. We have a destiny to fulfill, and you are willing to let your human sidekick dictate our futures? We are going to make a plan, Fluffykin. We are going to begin the battle again and all the way to the glorious end where I take over the world!"

Fluffy blinked a couple times. The crazy rabbit wanted more trouble? Well of course he did. The rabbit was as mad as . . . as a March hare, he supposed.

Bunnywomper leaned closer. Fluffy tried to pull his ears down into his head, but otherwise he sat very still. You are going to remind Dave of his destiny to fall victim to my mad genius --

Just as a point of interest, but I don't think that's really going to encourage him to get out there and fight the good battle, you know.

The huge ears flickered. Stupid, blind humans. I suppose you're right. Tell him superheroes get more girls.

Well, that might actually work. But did he want it to? He liked the nice, calm life --

And if you don't get him moving, we'll have this talk again, Bunnywomper said, picking up a carrot and nibbling. Crunch, crunch.

Oh yeah. He'd talk to the boy. Maybe a few battles, get the blood flowing again. Right. Not so bad, as long as he kept his ears out of reach.

Are we agreed, Fluffykin?

Agreed? What would happen if he didn't? Well, he'd be lucky to get away with either of his ears intact. And the problem, of course, was that he was the good guy. He had to live by the rules. If he agreed, then he was committed.

Fluffykin? Bunnywomper said, leaning forward. Thump. Thump.

You worry about your girl. I'll get the boy moving. It wouldn't be as easy as when he was a kid. Teens didn't want to go put on the tights and cape and hunt the bad guys for some reason.

He'd never understand humans, but he was stuck with his. And at least Dave gave a mean ear-rub and sneaked him food from the table.

Then till we meet again on the field of battle, Bunnywomper said with a bow of his head as he backed away into the brush. Thump, thump, thump. Crunch. Crunch.

Fluffy backed up until he had a line of weeds and leaves between them. Then he turned and sauntered away. He wouldn't run, though all the fur on his body stood out on end. Not worried about the bunny back there. Nope. Really.

Back to the house. The boy would be home from band soon. They were going to have a long talk.

And maybe some snacks. Yeah. Snacks and talk about the battles to come. This might be good. Save the world. Right.

Everyone needed a hobby.

The End

About the Author

Lazette Gifford lives in Nebraska with her husband and assorted cats. She usually produces at least half a dozen new novels and twice as many short stories a year. So be prepared. There's no telling where the stories might turn up if they escape. (Or maybe that's the cats....)

Zette is the owner of Forward Motion (http://fmwriters.com), a writers' community and the editor for Vision: A Resource for Writers (http://lazette.net/vision), now in its thirteenth year of production. A recent convert to the Indie Publishing Revolution, you can find her work in formats for Kindle, Nook, Kobo and more.

Lazette Gifford's home page: http://lazette.net

Email: [e-mail]

Eyefall - James K. Earl

EYEFALL - JAMES K. Earl

I.

Cooper's whining tore Maya from a dream instantly forgotten with her heart thumping like a bongo. The toy poodle jumped against the side of her mattress, too short to leap up, and his paws scrabbled against the floor, long toenails in need of clipping clicking on laminate. She pulled back the blanket and leaned over the edge to lift Cooper onto the bed, and the puppy all but burrowed beneath her. What's wrong? She drew him into her arms and kissed the curly fur on top of his head. It's okay. You don't need to be afraid of the dark. Words Mom repeated to her many times when she was too young for school, but rarely since then. Cooper's whimpers subsided as she stroked his curls.

Luminous flickers danced on the walls, like watching television with the lights off. Her eyes wandered down to the fairy nightlight's blue glow, solid and strong. The flickers came through the small gap between the curtains. When she pushed up onto her knees to peer out the window, Cooper redoubled his whining and squirmed until he wriggled out from her arms and dropped to the bed. She barely noticed his nose cold and wet against her bare leg, though, for in the darkness outside the house two disconnected lights drifted down, blue like a cat's eyes, dropping slower than a feather, winking every few seconds, the one on the left a little lower than the other, both just inches from the glass. Two points of brightness in an otherwise empty night. The crescent moon provided just enough light for her to see the back fence and the house across the alley in the background behind the floating, flickering eyes, so she knew this was no monster looking in on her. The eyes were not attached to each other or to anything else. She pressed her forehead against the window and gazed in fascination at the disembodied eyes, and minutes passed as they drifted lower to enter Mom's thorny rosebushes, and she watched with her breath clouding the window until each light slipped below her line of sight, and continued to gaze until their residual glow winked out.

When Maya lifted the blanket to crawl into bed again, Cooper scurried beneath. She stroked his fur to comfort him until he grew calm, and soon both drifted off to sleep.

She opened her eyes to morning light and, instead of the music Mom usually played on the radio, heard muffled men talking on the television. When she pushed up onto her knees to peer out the window into the backyard, Cooper jumped down to the floor and slipped through the half-open doorway into the hallway. The backyard looked the same as always. She thought about the blue, drifting eyes and wondered if she dreamed them.

She found Mom in the living room clutching the remote control and standing too close to the television. A newsman spoke while the President walked into a room crowded with adults. When Maya touched Mom's arm, she jumped and gave off a laugh a little like a scream. Don't sneak up on me like that. She muted the television just when the President stepped to the podium to begin to speak. His eyes pointed at Maya as he mouthed silenced words.

What time is it? Mom glanced at the wall clock and ushered Maya to the kitchen table. Let's get you breakfast. The school bus will be here soon.

As she ate her cereal, Cooper burst in through the doggie door and raced through the kitchen to disappear into the hallway, whining as he went. The doggie door swung back and forth several times before coming to a rest. Mom gave a puzzled look and opened the back door to look outside.

Did something scare Cooper? Maya asked.

Mom closed the door. Backyard's empty. Maybe a bee scared him. She moved to the kitchen window and stared outside while Maya finished her cereal. After a quick wash and a rushed change into her school clothes, Mom walked her to the bus stop. Birds chattered in the trees. A slight breeze rustled tree leaves. A fly buzzed her head and she waved her free hand at it until it continued on its way. Mom gripped her other hand tight, so tight it hurt, but when she tried to tug free, Mom gripped a little tighter still.

At the bus stop, five adults stood with six children arranged in a circle, with the adults on the perimeter facing outward and the children huddled within. The adults looked around, watched in all directions, continually swiveled their heads. No one spoke when she and Mom joined their group. A couple adults moved aside to allow Maya to join the children. Her Mom took up a position on the perimeter. The bus soon arrived to take the children to school. Maya found her usual seat near the front door, and as the bus drove away, she saw Mom and the other adults clustered together in urgent conversation.

II.

Miss Taylor stood at the front of the classroom with the whiteboard empty behind her. She wore hiking boots, blue jeans, a wide-brimmed hat, a light jacket, and gardening gloves. She clutched a water bottle with both hands, squeezing it tight as though worried about dropping it. A bright orange canvas bag drooped over the edge of her desk.

Bring your permission slips to my desk.

Maya rose from her desk at the back of the room and joined the forming line. Outside, a man lifted up a sheet of plywood to block the last uncovered window, and the room dimmed perceptibly though the overhead lights continued to shine. Another man would soon pound in twenty nails to secure the board, as he had done on the other three windows. She lost sight of the lines of buses which filled the street in front of the school for a block in either direction. Keys rattled in the door's lock and two men entered from the hallway and hurried to the back of the classroom. One returned his keys to his belt and the other carried an open laptop computer, and when she craned her neck, she saw a diagram on the screen, white lines on a blue background. The men spoke too quiet for her to eavesdrop and pointed to the back corner opposite the boarded windows.

Miss Taylor spoke up. Remember, the shells look something like eggs, but blue instead of white, and if you see one call to me or one of the other teachers or one of the policemen or soldiers. Don't squash them. Let an adult do it. And always listen to the instructions given by the policemen and soldiers.

Miss Taylor picked up the bright orange bag from her desk and unlocked the door to the