Sarah Ann Hall

Reporting on writing in progress or, more probably, not; practising flash fiction.

Posts Tagged ‘cat

OLWG #27 and #28

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Here are my responses to two sets of OLWG prompts because I’m very behind at the moment, but I do enjoy the challenge of coming up with something for these. This week I’ve been superbly lazy and incorporated the prompts in my short pieces, as that gave me even fewer words to come up with. Sticking to the tried and tested I’ve gone for a haiku, American sentence and cinquain for each set of prompts. Thanks as ever to TNKerr and the OLWG for these.

 

 

full moon plundering

people asleep in their beds

get away with it

 

Auntie loved cats. Here near constant refrain, ‘Here kitty, kitty, kitty.’

 

Courtroom.

How do you plead?

They shouldn’t ask me that.

Don’t know. Can’t remember. Don’t care.

Death row.

 

 

ambassadoring

putting on a show to woo

those we love or need

 

Grandfather loved gratuitous sex and violence. Grandma left him.

 

Hoped for,

and there it was:

All she could ever need.

Her prayers answered by living souls.

Christmas.

 

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Written by Sarah Ann

December 17, 2017 at 1:22 pm

#FridayFictioneers – 21/12/12 – Dinnertime

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Every Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields publishes a photo to stimulate and inspire writers to write 100-words of flash fiction or poetry. Every Friday the Friday Fictioneers post their 100-word stories. Visit Rochelle’s site for the rules on how to join in and check out the other stories here.



This week’s photo is courtesy of Scott Vannatter. I couldn’t get beyond the cat and the imposing stance.

 

Copyright-Scott L. Vannatter

Copyright-Scott L. Vannatter

Dinnertime (100-words)

Butch stalked through the place settings. Where was everybody? They must be around here somewhere.

He coiled his tail, settled down to wait, slept.

No-one came.

He stretched out a paw, drew back a sharpened talon. The scream cut his ears, but no-one came.

He massaged his body along a door, could feel the low rumble of music and chatter. On hind legs he mewled through the keyhole, lungs straining. No-one came.

It was cold and dark when squealing hinges woke him. What time did they call this?

He purred until his heart felt fit to burst. Feed me. Ne-ow.

Written by Sarah Ann

December 21, 2012 at 8:52 pm

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