Here is the second story for our prompt: "Write a story where a good person does something bad or villainous." Enjoy, and please feel free to comment below!!

The Rental House by Jessica VanderWerff

Trigger Warning: Illness  

            “Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you? How could you cancel on us like this?” The blonde woman with coffee stained teeth screeched in David’s face. 

            “I’m sorry Ma’am, but I need to rescind the offer on the rental house. Something has come up and it’s something I’m not able to fix.”

            “But we’ve already packed up all of our stuff!”

            “Is your lease up yet at your current place?” 

            “No, we’ve got a few more months, but still!” 

            David winced as the smell of coffee and cigarettes on the blonde woman’s breath hit his face. 

            “That’s plenty of time to find a new rental house. I can give you the names of at least 4 different people I know in town who are renting out. All pet friendly,” David added with a fake smile as he glared at the blonde woman’s chihuahua sitting in an oversized bag at her feet.

            “You know what?” she whispered as she leaned closer to him, “I’m going to tell everyone I know what a disgusting person you are. How can you possibly tell us we can’t move in to the rental when we’re a family with two kids? It’s unprofessional and gross and in a town this small, people will find out fast. You’re a terrible landlord! Scumbag!”

            The blonde woman’s husband kept his gaze fixed on the ground. 

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered to David. “My wife is intense. You’re right, we can easily find another place before our current lease is up. That landlord wants us out so it’s stressful. They didn’t tell us why either, but I‘m sure you have your reasons.” 

            “It’s a private matter.” 

            The blonde woman’s husband nodded and followed his wife back to their car. 

            David got into his van and glanced at the clock: 4:30. Miss Sommers would probably be home from her doctor’s appointment by now. He drove up the gravel road that led to the two bedroom house he rented out to Miss Sommers and her son. He’s probably in third grade by now. I wonder if his dad ever came back? David shook his head and sighed. 

            Miss Sommers opened the door before David even had a chance to knock. 

            “Look, all of our stuff is packed up, ok? We’ll be out of here just in time for the other family to move in.” 

            She reached up and adjusted the pink and silver scarf she used to cover the hair loss from her cancer treatments. 

            “No, no, I have a new lease I wanted you to read over. I think you’ll find it quite fair.” 

            Miss Sommers shook her head. “I can’t afford the rent. My husband left us right before I got sick. We’re out of options. We’re going to stay with my sister for a while but she doesn’t like kids so that’s not going to last long. I’ll have to figure something else out in the meantime.”

            “Please just read the new lease, miss.” 

            “Come in.”

            David followed her into the dimly lit kitchen and sat across from her at the table. Miss Sommers took the lease from him with a trembling hand. 

            “Are you serious?” 

            David laughed. “Why does everyone keep asking me that today?” 

            “Only a dollar? You’re only asking for a dollar a month? Then you won’t be making any money off of us!” 

            “That’s not true!” David smiled. “I’ll be making a dollar a month. The family who was going to move in here cancelled, so you can stay. In fact, my wife and I really hope you and Sam will stay. You’re good people.”

            “I thought we had to leave because we couldn’t pay the rent?”

            “Yes, but my wife and I talked about it and we can afford you to stay on a reduced rent. We have other sources of income. We’ll be ok. Please stay here.” 

            Miss Sommers wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you. This means a lot to us. But wait, is this legal? Like, can you really only charge a dollar a month?”

            David rolled his eyes. “No, the police will stop me.” 

            It took her a second to realize he was being sarcastic. 

            “You’re a jackass, but like, a really nice jackass.” 

            “That’s funny, my wife tells me the same thing.” 

Ramb's Intention To Do Good 1993 by Rebekah Palmer

 We're back, finally!! The next prompt is to write a story where a good person does something bad or villainous. It has a lot of possibilities, and yields some interesting results. Here is our first story, by Rebekah Palmer!! Enjoy, and please comment. :)

Ramb's Intention To Do Good 1993 by Rebekah Palmer

Trigger Warning: Gendered name calling/teasing

Taylor's announcement that his dad identified the family next door as "crotch-lickers" had yielded no further intelligence to the group other than disappointment. Except for Ramb, who felt a new sense of hope existing in her world that a family could consist of two women with children.

One day, she woke up certain of a happy day playing at Geoff and Micah's house. They lived exactly behind the house of the family they all saw the other day.

Ramb hopped on her bicycle and started off towards the tiny cul-de-sac to cross over to Geoff and Micah's place. And then to behold such a funny sight, in her mind, as she thought she saw Randy perched atop a girl's bicycle; it was pink like his bike helmet!

She didn't see Kevin and the other boy at first so she gallantly cried out in a teasing manner, "Randy is riding a girl's bike!" Just like the boys teased her if she had worn and rode such frilly things.

She stopped short as she realized it wasn't Randy on the girl's bike at all but an actual girl. A new neighborhood girl--and that's when she realized her mistake as the boy with Kevin yelled at her back "Oh yeah, well, you're ugly!" just as she sped off to Geoff and Micah's.

Oh, how her cheeks were on fire! She did not enjoy her day playing with her friends. And supper was bland too. What was she thinking to make fun of someone for what bicycle they were using and helmet they were wearing? Who cares if it had been Randy....but it wasn't, and she cared that she embarrassed herself by calling this new girl a boy.

The next day came a knock at her door and she opened it to find Joey Sam wanting to introduce her to a new friend who moved in down the street. It was the girl. The girl she had teased yesterday.

Maybe things could be made right if she let them in and they played a little bit together. "This is Hazel," Joey Sam said. "Can we play?"

"Yes," Ramb replied. "Do you like Barbies? Or we can be witches with spell books? Or ride our bikes....or dig in the sand box out back...."

"Witches with spell books!" Hazel declared. Their eyes met and smiles were shared all around. Joey Sam led the way down to the basement in Ramb's home where the old family Bibles were kept that made excellent witch's tomes for finding lists of ancient recipes, particularly in the book of Leviticus. Turtledoves and parts of oil and grain were always in the potion mix.

Sawyer Prefers Blondes by Amanda Leigh

And here is the last response to our cat adoption prompt from the point of view of the cat!! This one I wrote from the perspective of my adopted kitty, Sawyer. I hope you enjoy!! We love pets!!

 

Sawyer Prefers Blondes

Meowwww….

Sasha mewls next to me, and suddenly all the kittens are clamoring to get a look, climbing over each other. I peek and see that someone is coming through the door. People! Humans! One taller, with black hair on her head and tan skin. And then the little human walks into the room. She’s not a kitten…a child. But she is small. And has yellow hair, and something on her face covering her eyes. They are dark, like they’re blocking out the light. Her smile is bright, and the room lights up. She seems a little bit nervous, but mostly happy and excited. Her and the big human come into the room more. The little one walks a little bit off, more weight on her right leg. Her fingers twist together a few times.

One of the nice humans who takes care of us tells her to take a seat. And I know, I just know it. This one is mine. This is my human. Who I’m supposed to go home with.

“Hey,” I say to my friends in our way. “Don’t be too cute.” 

Meow. “Why?”

“Because! Because I found her, this is my human. I want her, need her to pick me!”

“The bigger one? Or small one with the yellow hair and the things covering her eyes?”

“That one. The small one! I want that one!”

My friends meow in agreement. When one of us knows, we just know, and all of the others are supposed to respect that. We don’t get in the other’s way when one of us knows a human is meant for us, and we’re meant for them.

I’m the first kitten she holds, and I get to see her eyes because she takes those things off of her face. They look blue, but not blue. Blue, but then sort of grey like a few of the kittens in here. They’re kind eyes, I like them.

The woman tells her to hold some more. No, I think. This is my human. She has to pick me.

The yellow haired girl holds only one more before she says she wants to hold me again. Yes! Yes, she wants to hold me again. I’m place into her arms and she smiles again. The biggest one so far. She feels it, too.  She knows she’s supposed to be my human, right?

“This one’s awful cute,” says the bigger human, about a different kitten. No, no, me. She has to choose me.

The girl agrees, but turns her attention back to me. I can feel it. She’s going to pick me, right? Right?

***

Not too long after. I’m in some sort of mini house made of the same thing the square things we like to play in are. And in this I’m seated on my new human’s lap, in a big metal thing that seems to fly. I hear other ones, too, and the noises scare me.

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’re almost home. It’s okay.” The little human’s voice soothes me. Her voice is soft, and calm, and I like listening to her. I don’t like this metal box that moves, but I like listening to the little woman’s voice.

 ***

When we get to my new home, I’m happy, I’m excited, but I’m still scared. It’s a new place. And there’s so much more room!

So many new things. I don’t know what to look at first. I want to run up to all of them, and sniff them, and play with some of them, but I stay in my little house instead. They set it down on the floor. I want to come out, but I’m still scared.

I start to come out more over the next few days, but I keep going back to my house box. (I heard them call it a box. That’s the word for it.) They show me my litter box. (I get my own!) They show me where my food and my water is. I go to that sometimes.  And they have toys for me already.

 ***

A few days into staying at my new home, I start to come out more, and play with my little yellow haired human. Seven times a day, she sits down and swallows many small things. They’re not food, and the bigger human doesn’t do this. They call it her pills, her meds. Sometimes she feels sick after the meds, I can tell. So I start to sit next to her when she does them, and start to crawl in her lap.

One day, my little yellow haired girl (Amanda is her name, but I start to call her mama in my head) is laying down on the couch (I heard the humans call it that) with a book (I learned that one, too. My human has a lot of them). She’s reading and sometimes talking to her mother (the bigger human!). I decide I want to be up there with her, too. So I jump up on the couch and pad over to her feet. She looks over the book at me and smiles. Her eyes go back to the book for a minute. I walk over her legs, up onto her stomach, and duck my head under the book to look at her. She smiles big and laughs. I walk right over her chest, and up onto her collarbone and shoulder, and lay down right there.

She holds her book out to the side, forgotten for the moment. Her mom takes out the little rectangle things the humans have and clicks a button. I don’t know what she did, but my human seems happy. She pets my fur and scratches behind my ears just right, and lets my stay on tip of her. She’s warm and comforting and my mama. That’s when I decide once and for all I made the right choice. This human was meant to be mine. I’m glad I adopted her. She has some issues, I can tell, but we’ll work through them together. 

Pine and Lavender by Jessica VanderWerff

 And our next response to the prompt, "An adoption story from the cat's point of view" comes from Jessica VanderWerff. A lovely ode to the human/pet relationship. We hope you enjoy, and please comment below. 

Bo 

Pine and Lavender by Jessica VanderWerff

Trigger Warnings: pet death

 

            I remember the first time my human held me. He was not like the children who picked me up too quickly. He was an older boy with a scar above his right eye, chapped lips and brown hair. He was gentle and his movements were slow. 

            “That’s our senior resident, you don’t want him. You probably want a younger cat to play with! Do they even allow cats in your college dorm?” The woman asked. 

            The boy stared at me and smiled. “I have an off campus apartment and I want this cat. He looks kind of sad. I think he and I both need a friend.” 

            The woman didn’t argue. In a few minutes I was in the older boy’s car. His apartment smelled of foods I didn’t recognize. He carried me into the kitchen and carefully set my pet carrier on the floor. He opened the door to the carrier and whispered to me:

            “You can come out when you’re ready.” 

            I walked out of my pet carrier right away. I was hungry and I smelled people food and kibble. The older boy chuckled and placed bowls of kibble and water in front of me. The kibble was soft. It didn’t hurt my remaining teeth like the stale stuff at the shelter had. I ate my food quickly. I had to eat quickly when I was at the shelter. Us cats all ate from one trough. If I didn’t eat fast, I wouldn’t have gotten very much, and no one ever shared their food with the slower eaters. It just wasn’t something we did. 

            “What should I call you?” asked the older boy. 

            I looked up at him. I had had a few names over the years because I had lived with a few families. The first family called me Harvey. I lived with them when I was a kitten. I liked that name but I didn’t like their children. They were rough and treated me like a toy. When the family had to move to a home that didn’t allow cats, they returned me to the shelter. The children were sad. I was not. Next, I lived with a family who called me Felix. I have met many cats called Felix so I did not like this name. The family often forgot to feed me so I did not like them. They left me behind when they moved to a new home. Their neighbors brought me back to the shelter. Then I lived with an old man. I did not know his name and he never gave me one. He smelled of sickness and chemicals but he was kind to me and fed me good food. Then one day he went to sleep and did not wake up. His family returned me to the shelter. I was sad for a while. 

            The older boy interrupted my thoughts, “I’ll just ask Lisa when she visits. She’ll know what to call you, she’s good with stuff like that.” 

            I didn’t know who or what a Lisa was, but when she came to the older boy’s home, her hair smelled of lavender, her eyes were kind and when she held me, her hands were gentle. 

            “Oh what a sweet old boy,” she cooed. “I’ll call you Sage.” 

            “Sage?” The older boy scoffed. Every grey cat I’ve ever met is called Sage. That’s so unoriginal.” 

            “How many grey cats have you met exactly? And that’s not why I called him Sage. He’s a little old cat grandpa and his eyes look wise to me. That’s why, Michael!” She smiled as she gave the older boy a quick kiss on the lips. 

            I would never be a grandpa, but she didn’t know that. When I was a kitten the workers at the shelter had done something to all of us kittens so that we would never be fathers and mothers. I was in pain for a few days but then I’d mostly forgotten about it. It didn’t matter now. I liked Michael and his Lisa. I neither liked nor disliked the name Sage but having a name and finally knowing the older boy was called Michael made me feel welcome. 

As the days carried on, Michael went to school and did work every evening. Most of his work was what he called studying, but sometimes Lisa would visit and they would go out together. One day they went out together and came home smelling of winter and the forest. They dragged a tree into the older boy’s apartment and decorated it. I stood at its base and looked up, feeling my eyes widen. I couldn’t help it, I had to. Despite my aging, aching bones, I began to climb. A few of the decorated orbs the humans put on the tree fell, but still, I kept climbing till I was mid-tree. I settled in one of the branches, inhaled the scent of pine and began to purr. I heard Lisa’s distinctive laugh that sounded like a pony neighing. (I’m a cat, we know what other animals sound like.) 

            “Look at Sage! He’s so cute, let’s take a picture with him.” Lisa sat below the tree, and my human, my Michael, sat next to her. He took out what he called a phone and took a picture. Afterwards, I climbed down from the tree and sat in my human’s lap. Michael hugged me and so did Lisa. I wished that they could hold me that way forever: the three of us, enveloped in the scents of pine and lavender. 

In the days that followed, the humans exchanged gifts. They even bought me something of my very own: a set of three toy mice filled with cat nip. I wasn’t very interested in the gifts. I was simply too old to play very much and my joints hurt, but I faked moderate interest because I knew it would make them happy, and I was grateful that they remembered me during their celebrations. Those were the best of days. 

One morning, Michael and Lisa began to take down the decorations. I grew angry and sad and bit Lisa’s hand when she tried to pet me right after she took the pretty star off the top of the tree. I did not mean to bite her. I was just upset because they were changing things that I’d grown to like. She was not angry with me. She sat down next to me and gently scratched my head. I looked up at her, trying to find some way to make her understand I was sorry for biting her, but the room began to spin. It was hard to breathe and there was a sharp pain in my chest. 

            “Something is wrong with Sage,” Lisa screamed. I heard her, but it was as if she was far away. Her voice sounded echoey and distorted. I felt myself fall over onto my side. 

            “Oh God, this is all my fault,” Michael yelled.  

            No, I thought. I wish I could tell my human no, that this was not his fault. This was not simply because he took down my tree. I am old. Not young-old like the older boy. No, not like him. Not a college freshman who thinks he is a man but is still very much a child. Us cats do not age as humans do. There is much we do not understand about your world and you understand even less of ours. When we age it does not always happen gradually like a human. Humans age like a whisper in a pine scented forest, cats age much more quickly and our time here is much shorter than yours but no less meaningful. 

I must have fallen asleep for a while because when I woke there were humans in white coats consoling my humans. 

            “His heart is weak, he’s old, there’s nothing we can do.” 

            My human, my Michael asked if he and Lisa could be alone with me. The other humans left the room. My Michael held me, gently as always. I looked into his eyes and tried to do what the humans call smiling. I wanted him to be sure that this was not his fault, that he had given me the best days I had ever known. I slow blinked at him, then he did it back. Lisa’s eyes were closed as she held me and my human. I inhaled their scents one last time: pine and lavender. 

The Purpose of Bootsie Pussywillow Palmer by Rebekah Palmer

Our next prompt is to tell a cat adoption story from the point of view of the cat!! We are called The Cat Chat Writers, so obviously we love cats!! We all thought this would be a fun exercise. :) And our first one is Rebekah's story. A nod to how pets can be a very potent medicine. Enjoy, and please comment!!

Bootsie Pussy Willow Palmer

 The Purpose of Bootsie Pussywillow Palmer by Rebekah Palmer

Trigger Warnings: chronic illness, throwing up

My eyes opened to see a frizzled-haired woman reach her hand towards my head.

"This one's eyes are clear."

She started scratching behind my ears then stroked my back and tickled under my chin. I was then lifted by the man next to her and put into a cardboard box. 

An engine started around me and I was off to start my third life somewhere besides my previous two that had lived out on this farm. Gone was the warmth of my mother's belly, the smell of my siblings, the cows, the hay, and the tepid milk.

The first morning I awoke next to a slight wisp of a girl with yellow, corn silk hair. I smelled myself over. The scent of urine was overwhelming. It wasn't me. The frizzle-haired woman was back again using her hands to tug the soaked sheets off the bed from underneath the girl, whose pictured-outer-fur-of-sorts was sticking to her body, revealing peachy, pale smoothness after it was removed.

I jumped off the bed and went looking for my moist food that had been in the kitchen last night. House life was cushy and barn life was cozy.

Something was terribly wrong with this girl though and I was to be a comfort, I suppose, for her. She seemed a bit frightened of me. My elegant grey fur and white-socked paws were exquisitely coiffed to perfection. I always am a sight to behold, as evidenced by the frizzle-haired woman's earlier exclamation about my eyes.

The sound of water running in the next room alerted me to the girl being cleaned. Humans are silly using water and hard lumps or gooey liquid to make their bodies presentable. I only discovered this having observed the man the other night using the room down the hall for such purposes.

He did not like my cat's eyes assessing his process so I was promptly excused to the girl's room.

While I did live on a farm with smells to revel in, a new smell coming near the girl who had appeared at the kitchen table presented itself to me. It was noxious like cow barn but more like the cow barn was on fire.

The girl was putting small, white pieces in her mouth and drinking from a cup after each piece.

"Do you have all your medicine taken?" from the frizzle-haired woman.

Medicine. Medicine smells badly.

"Gah. Cystagon." The man mumbled as he joined the girl at the table.

"You take it, Dad." The girl responds.

"I do not have Cystinosis." He states.

Whatever this Cystinosis is, this is what is causing the girl to be wet in her bed and swallowing smelly medicine.

Maybe I am to be a better medicine of sorts. A beautiful and playful medicine so the girl will have joy.

I need to give her joy because she suddenly has left the table and loud noises and splashing come from the water room.

"We'll be late for her first day o f Kindergarten. I'll have to give her another dose with apple sauce."

I can give the frizzle-haired woman joy too. So I start playing with her toes.

"Kitty." She smiles and pets me down my back like the first time she saw me open my eyes and look at her. I give her a nibble and lick her hand.

"I like her white paws." The man says.

The girl returns and is sniffling with tears down her cheeks.

"What do you think of the name Bootsie for your kitty? Because she only has white on her paws just like a pair of boots?" The man explains.

"I like it, Dad." The girl rubs her face. "And can her middle name be pussy willow like those grey plants by Grandma's cows? Her fur everywhere else is grey and soft like them!"

Bootsie Pussy Willow Palmer.

Joy has a full name. And it is me. Me that gets to live my third life a contented cat. 

*Cystinosis is an ultra rare disease wherein a defect in the cell's lysosomes causes cystine to accumulate and destroy vital tissue and organs in the body. Manifestations of the disease include massive urinary loss of phosphate, bicarbonate and other crucial electrolytes which are normally absorbed by the renal tubules, rickets, and failure to thrive.

*Cystagon was an early treatment for Cystinosis first available as a liquid then as an oral medication for those diagnosed with the disease. Another form of this medication (using the ingredient cysteamine that causes Cystagon to smell like sulfur) is on the current market called Procysbi. The difference between the two drugs is method of delivery: Cystagon releases in the stomach and Procysbi releases in the small intestine. 

This information can be found in the book Strength: Lives Touched By Cystinosis in the foreword by Dr. Paul Goodyer Professor of Pediatrics and Human Genetics McGill University Health Centre. The anthology is edited and compiled by Amanda Leigh and Amanda Buck. 

What I Need by Amanda Leigh

 

Image by JayMantri from Pixabay

We've been behind on posting our stories, but we are beginning to catch up. So, you will be getting a few stories posted here in June. And many of them shared on social media in June, as well. This is the last of our short stories inspired by songs. This one is by Amanda Leigh. Read all the way to the bottom to find out which song it is inspired by. Leave your guesses in the comments, and let us know if you guessed right!!

What I Need by Amanda Leigh

Soft sheets cling around me, your body heat next to mine, as I stare at the clock on the wall. The soft tick, tick, tick like a bomb set to go off and explode this moment into bits. I know it’s coming, the ring of your phone, that moment when I’ll be left here all alone, and you go running back home to her. I’m waiting for it, even as you press against me once more, waiting for the ring, wishing desperately that I could ignore it. That you would ignore it. She can’t love you the way that I can.

But the ring comes, a blare right through this moment, as I knew it would. I want to say something. I wish you’d stay. I’d get down on my knees and beg and plead. Ask if I give you what you need. Why do you go back to her and leave me? Can’t you leave her and stay with me? I wish you’d see we don’t have to live like this, that you could stay.

I don’t say any of it.

And you get dressed, kiss me, and let yourself out, as I knew you would.

And a week later, there we are again tangled up in bed sheets after making love. But it doesn’t feel like making love, not when you share your love with someone else, and hide me way. From her. From everyone. I ask again when you’ll leave, and you tell me it’s not the right time, that one day that time will come, and you’ll leave her arms forever, to forever be in mine.

But I don’t think I believe you.

I’m tired of waiting for you, and tired of being used like this. It’s too much pain. But still, I don’t stop you when you leave. Or tell you we should stop.

The longer you’re away this time, the more time I have to think. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve thought it before, but my will broke as soon as I saw you. I’m afraid it will this time, too. But I’ve put so much into this, and she still gets the best of you. So when you come calling, as I know you will, I pray I have the strength to tell you.

The next time you show up at my door, I don’t fall to my knees on the floor, beg you to leave her. I stand firm, tall and strong. Tell you this is wrong. We can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. Why don’t you stay with her? I used to think I couldn’t give you what you need, but now I know it’s the other way around. I know she begs you not to go, and next time she does, don’t leave her to come to me. I’m done with this. I don’t want to live this way, and I don’t have to. Next time you want to be in my bed instead, don’t leave her.

Stay.

 

Inspired by Stay by Sugarland. 

The Gardener by Jessica VanderWerff

 

And here is our second short story!! This one is based on the song The Seed by Aurora. And this one is a story poem, which is part of Jessica VanderWerff's signature style. We hope you enjoy this story poem, and comment below with your thoughts. 

The Gardener
(Inspired by The Seed by Aurora)

 

The Gardener’s daughters

walked on their tip toes across the slate slabs 

that made a path upon the soil

they joined their mother

giggling at each other in the night air

amongst the daffodils, daisies and petunias

 

they watched their mother dig her fingers into the soil

taking a deep breath

she whispered a prayer 

thanking the soil 

for all the life it nourished

 

The wind began to blow

combing the scent of the flowers 

through the hair

of the three women waiting below

 

The Gardener lifted her arms

reaching towards the full moon

while hundreds of fireflies 

dutifully circled 

waiting to hear their wishes and dreams

The Daughters stared in awe

 

Their mother told them with a smile:

there is no life or death 

in the places such as these 

which exist outside of time 

there is only a gentle ebb 

as we wait 

reverently

for all those wiser than us

to whisper their secrets

 

The Daughters rested their heads

in the flower beds

while The Gardener sang her children a lullaby

they drifted off to sleep

dreaming of the tides, seasons, and the stars