I'm Issy.
I'm 14 and an aspiring artist and author.
Black Lives matter.
Bi puns
Murder mystery TV shows
Shakespeare poetry
I can't even be bothered writing them all down
Have a nice day

Message from Writer

Remember to write even if you think you are bad at it, you're not

The story of an orange cat

May 22, 2020


As I walk down the garden, to lounge under the picnic table, that is under the tree, I see something odd. A black and white cat sits on the picnic table already.
    Naturally I hiss and arch my back. But the stranger pays no notice, gazing intently at something behind me. I may not have much respect for this cat, but curiosity overcomes me and I turn around.
    There, on the lush lawn, beside where my owner is playing with one of those ghastly fluff-balls, is a dog.
    The dog is some sort of terrier cross and seems to be having a staring contest with our cowish friend.
    I decide that there is only one decent course of action in this sort of situation; I get the hell out of there and save myself.
    My paws pound on the stone steps as I bound down them. I can hear that the dog has finally ended the staring contest. In the garden bellow I search for refuge. I decide on climbing the old plum tree, because as far as I've heard; dogs can't climb trees.
    As I reach the highest I can get on the old thing I hear voices coming from the top of the steps. One of them, (the cat I think as the voice is relatively high), says, "Please, I can help you with what you are after if you spare me!"
    His voice shakes uncontrollably. What a scardy-cat.
    I survey my vast territory from my throne atop the old plum tree. 
    My garden is beautiful. There are tall trees surrounding the small area of grass. Everything is wild and mysterious, with an old run-down trampoline down one end, and my perch down the other. A stream runs down beside the garden, and there is a low, old-fashioned stone wall parallel to it. It is hard to describe the feeling of it with these descriptions, so, I will tell you that it has an air of melancholy, a beautiful silence, a lonely forgettable still all the while stunning feeling.
    The black and wight cat walks down the steps, the dog behind him. But it is more like the dog is walking him down here, and if he makes a move to escape . . . Well . . .
The dog growls something under it's breath.
    When they reach the bottom of the steps the dog points a fluffy paw toward the trampoline. It mutters some instructions to ol' cowy, who briskly trots to the trampoline.
    "Alright!" This time the dog speaks loudly and clearly, and to my surprise . . . With a defined English accent. She looks directly at me and says, "Belle, come down from there. There is nothing to be afraid of."
So, this is the first part in a story that I just started writing.
I hope you like it. 
Yes, the black and white cat is the same as the one in A Black And White Cat.


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  • May 22, 2020 - 9:05pm (Now Viewing)

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