I am a cat. I am a cat who loves stories. My typist, Mrs. Hodges, reads to me every day because I am just learning how to read. My favorite words are cat, fat, sat, hat, mat and dog. Mrs. Hodges told me she needed story ideas from a cat. So I am helping her.
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17 Story Ideas from a Cat
Substitution rule #1- Replace any item with a cat.
Substitution Rule #2 – Replace any item with a dog.
Substitution Rule #3 – Replace any item with a bathtub. (Do you think we will get more cat, dog, or bathtub substitutions?)
- A can-opener, a can of tuna, and a snowman.
- A mouse, an open door, and a toaster.
- A can of peanuts, a sock, and a mannequin.
- A cat, a folding chair, and a sleeping giant.
- A child with a fever, a dog, and a ceiling fan.
- A double bacon sandwich, a letter from your mother, and a parking ticket.
- An empty bottle of shampoo, a spatula, and a rowboat.
- A leaking fountain pen, a white dress, and a box of kleenex.
- A lawnmower, a hat, and an extension cord
- A broken pencil, a diamond ring, and a black rabbit.
- A box of raisins, a watermelon, and a jeep.
- A box of popsicles, an oak tree, and a low-odor dry-erase marker.
More Story Ideas
You can also use any of the three elements from the substitution rules above in these story ideas.
- You find a cat abandoned in a gutter in the middle of winter. You take it home and discover the cat is really a…
- The toaster you bought at the flea market turns your bread into kittens. Someone wants the toaster back.
- Driving home from the grocery store you take a wrong turn and can't find your way home. A talking cat helps you.
- A human opens the front door and steps outside. The cats lock the door and won't let them back inside.
- When you wake up you discover you have become a cat. You have a big presentation that evening, and you have to find out how to turn back into a human.
I could give you a longer list of story ideas, However, it would be helpful if I actually told you how I get my ideas, so you can make your own story ideas.
To Get Story Ideas
Sometimes it can be difficult to come up with story ideas, especially when there are a lot of great toys to distract you! That's why I wanted to give you a few tips on how to come up with some cat-tastic story ideas.
- Take a cat nap in a sunbeam. A refreshing nap will help you be more creative.
- Write about something you don't understand. I don't understand why I can't go outside.
- Shred all the toilet paper from the bathroom with your claws. Ripping up paper can help you relax.
- Keep a notebook and pen beside your litter box. We have seven litter boxes. I get so many ideas when I am standing on clumping cat litter. If you are not a cat, keep a note beside your toilet bowl. You want to be prepared to write down your creative ideas whenever you get a chance to sit down.
- Think about something you wish you had. Like thumbs. I wish I had thumbs.
Living Your Story – Acting Out Your Story, and Writing the Results. (Reality Story Telling)
There is no better way to get into the mind of your characters than to become like them, so I've put together a list of activities that will help you think more like an animal.
- Rent a cat costume and dress up like a cat. Go shopping for cat food and cat litter and write about people's reaction to an adult in a cat costume buying cat food and cat litter.
- Eat all of your food from a plate on the floor for a day. Write about what it is like to eat from the floor.
- Tape your thumb to the pointer finger on each hand for twenty-four hours. You can only eat food that you can open the container with your thumbless hands. After the twenty-four hours, write what it felt like to have no thumbs.
- For one day do not use a glass to drink from, lap all of your water from a large bowl on the floor and then write what that felt like.
- Find the birth certificate from 2003, for your best-friend, who is a dog, and try to find their litter mates. Then write about what happens.
This is me and Martha.
I am living my story with #4! I am trying to find Martha's brothers and sisters!
Will you help me write the rest of the story? Will you please help me find Martha's siblings? Mrs. Hodges found Martha on Craigslist in San Jose over eight years ago. Martha has trouble getting up the stairs now, and she has a lot of gray hair on her face.
Martha really wants to find her brothers and sisters. Pooh was going to try and help her. But Pooh died before he could help. Martha's mother was Josie, and her dad was Moose. Litter #sR132075/04
Martha was born on November 25th, 2003. at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Labrador Retrievers, 4801 Money Way, Sacremento, California 95842. Michele and Audie Gurule were the breeders.
My typist, Pamela Hodges tried to find them, but she couldn't find them.
Has your toaster ever turned a piece of bread into a kitten? Let me know in the comments section.
PRACTICE
Please pick one of the story ideas from the list above, or go to page 87 in your dictionary and write a story about the fourth word from the top on the left-hand column, and a cat.
Please write for fifteen minutes, and then share what you have written in the comments. Mrs. Hodges, my typist, will read your stories to me, and type my response.
I am so happy to get to write here. All the cats who live with me have told me so much about Pooh. I wish I could have met him.
Hugs and Kisses
Harper (P.S. I am named after Harper Lee. I hope I can write more than two books in my lifetime.)
I have two cats so writing a story from either one of their points of view might be fun.
Hello Darja,
I look forward to reading your story. And, hello to your cats.
xo
Pamela
Thanks, Pamela, for introducing Harper. I have often seen your references to seven litter boxes and thought, “Oh Yeah. I get it.” Though some two dozen cats have shared my life over the past thirty years, there are eleven now, three of them ten-month-old kittens. Thanks to your prompts it is clear that each of them has a story to tell — from Dude’s life begun in a landfill in rural Maine sixteen years ago to a surprise life discovered when Figaro’s feral mother was being spayed last May. Often at a loss for something to share in my Memoir Writing Class, I now have a new muse –if not eleven of them. Purrfect. Thank you.
Mary Dolan
Hello Mary,
Wow, please tell my typist, Mrs. Hodges, we need to get more cats. We only have four.
Hello to Dude and Figaro. Wow, they have lived interesting lives. I’ll bet you have too.
Sending you hugs and wishs for a good nap in a sunbeam today.
xo
Harper
Hi again Harper, My 15-year-old silver tabby, Sylvia, was impressed with your kindness in writing to me and sending greetings to Dude and Figaro. She then decided to write a bit of her history for your blog and now has it finished and sitting in WORD. Problem is, the only way I know how to get a WORD document out of my laptop is to send it as an attachment to an e-mail. I don’t have a scanner, and cut and paste to me are a pair of scissors and a bottle of glue. If you would like to read Sylvia’s story, will you send me your e-mail address and I’ll forward it on to you. Thanks.
Mary mycappycat@gmail.com
Hello Mary,
My email address is thecatharper@gmail.com. I look forward to reading your story.
xo
Harper
Hello Daria,
I am so happy to meet you. Did your cats help you write a story yet? Yes, thinking like a cat can always be fun. We are so creative.
xo
Harper
Love this post, Pamela. I am a crazy cat lady and my two cats never cease to inspire me. i got such a kick out of your post from Harper cat’s perspective and love all the fun prompt ideas. I must try some of them to get the creativity flowing. After I scoop the litterbox of course. Geesh! For two cats, they sure do fill that box up!
Hello Cathy,
Harper loves to tell stories. What did you name your cats?
I have seven litter boxes, how about you?
xo
Pamela
Hello Cathy,
I always love to meet crazy cat ladies. What are your cat’s names? Did you scoop the litter boxes yet? We have seven. I like to sit in them while Mrs. Hodges cleans them.
xo
Harper.
A cat story:
They say a dog is man’s best friend. Purr-lease. A dog is *everyone’s* best friend. It has no taste. To be loved by a dog is nothing. They were bred for the job.
But to be loved by a cat like me, who hates everything and everyone around her, now that would be something to boast about.
There was such a human once. He let me live in his garage. I wandered in there one stormy night many years ago, looking for warmth and shelter. I hid under his car so that I wouldn’t be found and kicked out again. I was cold and hungry, but there wasn’t any food around. The car was warm though, and so I fell asleep, exhausted. I hadn’t gotten my sixteen hours.
The next morning a rumble woke me. I jumped, imagining a predator. Then I wondered if perhaps it was my tummy that was grumbling. I finally realized the source of the noise was my giant metal home. It was moving!
I jumped out from under the car, and stared the metal beast into submission. It opened its mouth, and a human came out. At the time, I thought he was being eaten. I’ve since learned that humans are simply lazy. That’s something we have in common with them.
The human looked at me curiously. He was big for a human. I slowly backed away, wondering if his curiosity might kill this cat. He disappeared for what is an eternity in cat-hours and brought back some milk. Ah, milk! My one true love.
And thus, a pattern began. Each morning he would bring me food. I’d spend the rest of the day wandering around, hunting (I didn’t really need to anymore, but the lesser animals still needed to know their place), and getting my beauty sleep under the hot sun. Each night, he’d return with his warm car and I’d fake some PDA (something I learned from a pup I once knew) and then go walk into my personal night-castle.
And that is how the big man became my human. To him I bequeath my collection of dead rats and pigeons as gratitude for feeding and sheltering me. It’s been a good life. Eight more to go.
Hi, Sana! I honestly think your story is brilliant (way better than mine, haha!)! It is simple, yet funny and sweet. Your cat does say cat things. We all know cats have humans, not the other way around. Hahaha! I love your end sentence more than anything. I don’t know if my review will help you in anyway, because all I have to say is: great job! And congratulations! 🙂
Thanks Andressa! 🙂
Hello Sana,
Yes, cat love is special. We can be very selective about who we allow to pet us. The human you describe sounds like they have a kind heart. And, you cat, are even kinder, bringing your treasured collection of dead rats and pigeons to them. A true sign on love.
Now, I need to catch a mouse to give to my typist.
xo
Harper
I really enjoyed your story. Reminded me of cats from my own past. I especially love the word “purr-lease”. This was a well told narrative that touched my heart.
Beckasue
Thanks Beckasue. I’m glad you liked it 🙂
Now this was hilarious! My kids liked the pictures as well. I prefer dogs and glad to see her friends with one!
Hello LaCresha,
So happy your children liked the photographs. Do you have a dog to help you write?
xo
Pamela
Thank you!☺ I don’t have one to help me write for now. I should. I could use the help. I am a German Shepard fan myself. I know my kids would love one! ☺
Hello LaCresha,
Yes, I am friends with cats and dogs. Martha was my first friend when I moved here from the shelter. She use to sit in front of the bathroom door when I was in quarantine when I first moved here. The other cats took longer to be my friend.
Please say hello to your children for me.
I prefer humans to mice. I just want to eat mice.
xo
Harper
It is nice to meet you, Harper. My signicant other loves cats. He had a best friend named “Marty” when he was around 7 years-old. I would like to write a book about him. When it is done, I would like to send you a copy and let me know what you think. If, you’re not too busy. ☺☺
Hi, Harper! 🙂
Well, I feel really shy at the moment. This is my first time trying one of the exercises here on Write Practice. To be honest, I think the result is terrible. But I had fun. Writing with a cronometer next to me and stopping when the alarm clock sounded, it was a nice experience. So I think it was worth it anyways.
I used substitution rule #1 and prompt #8. I replaced “a box of kleenex” for “a cat”. Here goes what I got:
———————————————————————————————————-
ULTIMATE CAT FASHION
(or how Yami just saved the day!)
Hi. My name is Yami. I am an imaginary green-eyed female black cat. One day, my creator will own a cat just like me in real life and give her my name, she says. She created me to keep company to one of her characters. So I am an imaginary cat with an imaginary owner called Anelise. I know, that can be confusing. Let that sink in.
But today I am going to tell an imaginary story about what my creator’s future real green-eyed female black cat (whom she will call “Yami” in my homage, as I just told you) will do. Or not. I don’t know. But it would be nice if she did.
My creator is a writer, obviously. If you couldn’t figure that out yet, you are less smart than a cat. Which is ok, really, because cats are the smartest beings on Earth.
So, as a writer, she has lots of pens. She likes makes drawings, too, by the way. You also needs pens for that.
It is funny, actually. Andressa (that’s my creator’s name!) never wears dresses. She is more the t-shirt-and-jeans kind of girl. But now she has a pure white dress on her bed. Spread all over her bed. It is a quite long dress, with a big tail. Why are dresses’ tails called “tails”? They look nothing like my tail! Anyways, I feel tempted to walk over that dress. It is so white.
But why on Earth would she leave that fountain pen next to it? Oh, yes, because she is a writer and has a lot of pens. And the phone just rang. My creator has a phobia on phones, you know? She left the bedroom running. She must be trying to find help.
Hold on a second… Is the pen leaking?
So I guess this is where Yami (not me, the real cat from my creator’s future) saves the day! Time to bring some color to that boring dress! You go, Yami! Yes, yes, add more paw marks. Paw marks are nice. You can decorate anything with that. Ultimate cat fashion!
————————————————————————————————————
OBS.: It might not be that good because not only I was running against the clock, but also… I am not used to writing in English. I am Brazilian and all my stories are written in Portuguese. So this was a double practice! 🙂
I’d love it if you would point out any grammar/spelling mistakes you found.
Thank you very much, Harper and Pamela! =^.^=
Xoxo
I loved the fact that this is being told by an imaginary cat 🙂
I quite liked the narrative tone and the end was very funny. Good job!
Thank you, Sana! I already had a cat as a character, so I couldn’t help but bring her here, haha! :3
Andressa,
Your story was NOT terrible. Yami saves the day? By rolling around on a white dress with a leaky ink pen? I loved it. And by the way, your spelling and grammar were fantastic. I can’t believe you were writing in a “second” language. I can’t even spell Portuguese, let alone write in it! Keep up the good work.
Beckasue
Thank you so much, Beckasue! I was so insecure about everything! Your words made me very happy! 🙂
Hello Dearest Andressa,
And hello Yami! Yami, for an imaginary cat you act very real. I am so curious to know what happened when the writer found the white dress after getting off of the telephone. The telephone holds so much power. Humans run to stop the ringing noise.
May your day be filled with sunbeams and real cat hugs.
xo
Harper
Thank you, Harper! You are so sweet! :3
This was so funny! I loved it! Brilliant 🙂
Thank you very much! 🙂
I loved it. It made me laugh which I needed today as I’ve heard nothing but yelling from my teenage son who is off school this week because of teacher’s conferences. Monday can’t come soon enough so he’ll be back in school and my writing schedule will be back on track and I won’t hear Minecraft in the background while trying to write. It’s very distracting to hear that digging and building from that game, I hate it so much.
Hi, Daria! I’m so happy to hear that my story helped making your day better somehow! I know, teenagers can be tough (I’m 20 years old, what am I saying? Hahaha!). And Minecraft can be annoying, yeah. But don’t worry. Monday is coming! 2 more days to go! 😉
This was quite a treat to read. In fact I had to read it again just because it made me laugh. Human’s can be quite odd. Especially with warm clothes out of the dryer. I was helping my owner out after the clothes came from the dryer by picking them up and shaking them. What I was really trying to do was fluff them up so I could take a nap in all that warmth… Human’s such strange creatures.
Hi, Debra! Thank you very much, I’m happy it made you laugh! And you are right, us humans should learn more about life with you pets. You are the wisest and smartest! ;3
I used Substitution Rule #7 and More Story Ideas #4. I have to confess it took me longer than 15 minutes. It took about 25 minutes, but I wrote it as it came to me and did not go back and correct much. Haven’t tried this in a long time and I must admit it was fun. Hope you like it. I welcome feedback.
Beckasue
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
Ding Dong. The doorbell rings and I can barely keep from wetting on the floor. As my human opens the front door Spot darts in between her legs. Yes! Success. I wait for the two legged one to step outside before putting all my weight, which is considerable, against the door. Spot helps and we manage to shut the door before she can re-enter.
“Is it locked?” Spot purrs. Of course it’s locked. She always leaves the lock engaged. I don’t even bother answering. My tail goes straight up in the “follow me” gesture all cats understand and I scamper up the stairs to the bathroom. We have timed this adventure perfectly. Miss Pointy Toes always takes a bath at this time of day. She fills the tub then carefully prepares for her bath. Spot waited for my signal and leaped on the doorbell just at the perfect moment.
I turn to Spot and indicate the stash with a disdainful dip of my head. I told him I would have everything ready. Behind the door are the three items I have carefully hidden and on the edge of the tub sits our prey — Tweety bird. He always splashes in the tub with the Long Faced one. Spot pounces. His paw traps the little bird by its tail.
Before the Tweet can move I maneuver the tools of our torture up and over the tip of the tub. There is an empty container of something Square Teeth uses in her shower to make her fur all funny looking, something with a long handle and a wide rubbery thingee on the end and a long, narrow, hollowed out object which, when placed in the water, will not sink to the bottom. I’ve heard the Tall One With the Extra Set of Eyes (on the end of her nose) refer to the narrow object as a toy boat. Her small human pet seems to play with it in the tub. She calls the container a shampoo bottle and the long handled object a spatula.
The plan is to force the bird into the boat, fill the container with water from the bath, and force Birdie Bad-ass to use the spatula to paddle from one end of the tub to the other,attempting to shower him with water from the bottle. If he can escape us, he lives. If he drowns we win and dinner is our prize. I look to Spot and he flashes me a malicious wink. “Let’s do this.” I eye the little yellow Tweety Twit and notice his ability to sing has mysteriously disappeared. His eyes are large with fear.
Just as I am beginning my full disclosure of the rules for our little game, I hear pounding steps coming up the stairs. Long Legs bursts into the bathroom with a shriek. “I just knew it! This is the last time the two of you will get away with that trick. I hid a key under the mat the last time and you found it. This time I had to break into the garage. But I see I got here just in time. Spot, take your paw off that bird’s tail. Blackie, back away. You two are grounded for a month. Will you ever stop trying to scare my little Tweety to death? Now go. Get out.”
Curses, foiled again. Back to the drawing board. “Come on Spot, let’s see if we can find the dog. He’s always good for a laugh.”
Oh how funny Beckasue! Your animals were so alive. And the poor bird. Luckily the two legged one got back in the house in time.
A fun narrative with conflict and action!
xo
Pamela
Hello Beckasue,
Oh dear. How is the bird today? The cat is your story is very smart. Which would be obvious really. As cats are smart.
Now I have to try this with Mrs. Hodges, my typist. We have two birds in the sewing room, but she always keeps the door closed. If I can lock her out of the house and figure out how to open the door I can have protein for lunch.
Oh, you asked for feedback. Your story has a great conflict scene in the middle of it. The suspense kept my interest right until the end.
xo
Love Harper
Wow! This is so original! I loved your cats, though I felt sorry for the poor bird.
You did a great job, Beckasue! The rising conflict was great. And the end quote is brilliant! Such a fun read!
Hi, Harper
You make me remember a story I read when a child: Bobby Brewster.
Bobby’s grandfather gave him a typewriter for his birthday. He used to sit at his table and type. His cat, Peep, was always there when he did. One day the teacher asked his class to write something about a pet.
Back home, Bobby Brewster sat at his table and strated to write. He wrote MY CAT and stopped and went to bed. The next morning when he went to his typewriter he found the paper full:
My cat
I am cat, my name is Peep. I belong to Bobby. He thinks I belong to him but I belong to myself. Bobby is a nice boy but he is not very intelligent. Cats are more intelligent than humanbeings. They do what they want, where they want and when they want.
Hello Madani,
Thank you for telling me the story about Bobby and Peep. Peep was a very smart cat. Cats could do all of their humans school work for them while they sleep.
I will ask Mrs. Hodges to leave out the typewriter tonight so I can type her a message while she is sleeping too.
xo
Love Harper
Hi Harper!
What a fun exercise. Thanks for the great ideas.
This is my first time participating in one of the exercises as well, but I’m a cat fan so had to give it a go. It doesn’t have a title, and it’s a little rough, but it was only 15 minutes (okay so I did 20) and I pounded it out. It was fun – thank you!!
Here it is:
Every afternoon, I trudge down the stairs, out the door, into
the cold wind, and hail a cab for the drive to work. Then, eight and a half
hours later, I climb the stairs out of the steam pipe retaining room where I
work, brave the now-frigid temperatures, hail a cab for the drive home, and stash
the $65.50 I get every day from working under the table. Nothing ever changes.
At least, until yesterday.
There’s a small alley by my apartment building which houses
overflowing garbage containers, their mix of spoiled eggs, week old diapers,
and Chinese food somehow still potent in the constant winter. It was there, on
my way home, I distinguished the feral howl from the familiar scream of the
wind.
I hate to admit it, but I don’t put anything past my
neighbors. So, being the mostly decent person I like to think I am, I tiptoed
back there just to be sure it wasn’t a kid forgotten or deliberately placed
where someone wouldn’t find it.
It wasn’t. It was louder, though, than any kid I’d ever
heard.
A small orange cat hung by a single bleeding paw from a
broken gutter. His fur was freezing over from the ice melt in the gutter it was
so cold, and his tail hung limp, inches from the pavement. His evergreen eyes were
dangerous, but pained. I inched closer. He yowled.
“C’mon, fella,” I reached toward him as he hissed. “I’m not
gonna leave you out here to freeze to death.” I recalled painfully how a
neighbor called to notify me last month that my mother was found incoherent,
outside in the snow, nearly hypothermic.
It took some convincing, but cats are smart, and it wasn’t
too long before I had him warming up by the fire in my apartment with a small
blanket and some chicken.
We were both feeling pretty good and content with the
evening, so I took a minute to shower and change, making sure he had water and
some gum wrappers to play with.
The pounding on the door minutes later had us both a little
spooked.
“Eli, I want your rent money, now! Do you hear me?” That darn landlord was pestering me again. Didn’t
he know I was doing some good in the world this evening? “You’re a month behind
and I don’t want any more of your excuses!”
This time, he was serious. I heard him fit the key in the
door and barge in yelling all sorts of threats and curses.
The little cat stared at him under the table. In fact, it
looked like it was getting irritated if a cat can look irritated.
“Eli, I’m warning you. Go in that bedroom of yours and pull
out that wad of cash I know your stashing. I don’t care if you say it’s to get
your mother nursing care – you’re lying. No one’s that nice!”
Before I could protest, flames erupted from beneath the
table. The table itself was turned over and revealed a brilliant orange and
green dragon, fire spitting from his mouth encircling my landlord.
“It’s you! It’s you, from my dream!” my landlord’s whisper
carried over the hissing flames.
Not knowing where it came from, the cat-dragon responded. “Then
you know why I am here.”
My landlord looked at me his eyes like silver dollars and
his face paler than the frost on my window.
“Yes, I know. But I didn’t believe – it was just a dream!”
The flames intensified, making me very drowsy. The last
thing I recall was the baritone voice of the dragon speaking again to my
landlord and he in turn, bowing and backing out the door, unharmed.
When I woke this morning, the orange cat was sleeping on top
of my head, purring. There was a note on my nightstand, forgiving me my late
rent, and inviting my mother and me to dinner.
I loved your story Joy. The description of the alley was its contents was so real I could smell it. And when the cat-dragon erupted from under the table I was shocked. I had no idea that’s where you were going with the story, but it was great. Keep up the great work.
Beckasue
Thank you, Beckasue! I didn’t know where I was going with it either. :O) Thanks for your encouraging words!
Also, I can’t seem to be able to reply to any buy my own story comments (or at least can’t seem to figure it out) – I thoroughly enjoyed your story, Beckasue! It had me chuckling at a number of points. It was clever and I could absolutely see this happening. I own four cats and they are all sorts of mischief makers! Yours was a delightful story to read – thank you!
Wow!
You totally had me on the edge of my chair when the kitten turned into a dragon. You took me by surprise! I love the word totally. You have all the elements of a great story! Suspense, drama, conflict, and the ending ties in with the beginning.
I am so happy you tried writing a story here.
All my best,
xo
Harper
Thanks, Harper! Glad it kept you on the edge of your seat. I always think good stories are like bookends – the have to mirror each other in some way. Glad I was successful in doing that. :O) That’s for the opportunity!
Sana, I’m sorry I can’t post under your story – every time I try it pops me back to the top of the blog post. Not sure what I’m doing wrong.
Your story struck such a cord. All our cats are shelter cats and strays and I could just see the look on these sweet cats face when the human got out of the car to look at it. Love it! I gotta say thought, my favorite line must be: but the lesser animals still needed to know their place. Haha! So fun! Great job!
Thank you, Martin! I’m so happy you liked it! 😀
#2 in More Short Story Ideas:
Doyle Stevens was an ordinary boy in an ordinary sate called Nebraska. He just found
something extraordinary. That’s all.
And here’s how it happened: Doyle was riding his bike home from school when he
paused at a flea market a block from his house.
The little, brick-and-mortar building hadn’t been there yesterday, or even this
morning. That much Doyle knew. He didn’t bother with the kickstand as he got off
his bike. Doyle just let it fall.
Inside the building (although I wouldn’t call it an actual building, of course), it was dank and dark, and smelled like rotten
eggs. Doyle wrinkled his nose in distaste, but walked up to a person in the
shadowy corner. The only person. In the whole entire building.
“Excuse me,” Doyle asked. “Do you-” But Doyle didn’t finish the sentence, whether it be
a question or not. His gaze was drawn to the shiniest thing in the tent: a
squared, ancient toaster.
Something behind the rust and dirt made him take interest in it. Doyle walked over and
touched the toaster cautiously. A hook pulled him closer, until he was staring
at every detail, seeing what was not to be seen.
But there wasn’t much to be seen. Only metal behind rust, metal behind dirt, and
wires behind metal. Doyle picked up the bulky toaster and put it down on the
cardboard boxes that served as a counter.
“How much?” Doyle said. The person behind the counter looked up and for a moment
Doyle saw a pulsing, vibrant scar running down his face.
Doyle shuddered, but repeated his question. The person extended two fingers and
pointed to Doyle’s pocket.
Doyle
pulled out two one dollar bills hesitantly. Was he to buy the rickety
contraption? Doyle almost put his money in his pocket, but instead he slapped
it down on a box.
The person silently counted the bills twice, although there was no need. It was
plainly seen that there were two dollars in the person’s hand.
Finally, the person nodded. Doyle turned to leave, but when he was at the door, he heard a voice that filled him with dread. “You have made a purchase. Goodbye now.”
And when Doyle turned to look behind him, the little building was gone.
Doyle rode the rest of the way home with the toaster squeezed in his backpack. When
he arrived, he parked his bike and put the toaster in the kitchen.
Many sparks flew out of the outlet as he tried to plug it in. Success came, and he
put in all the bread the toaster the toaster could. A few seconds later, he
heard a faint ‘meow’.
Doyle turned, and saw four kittens slipping out of the toaster. There was no bread
when he looked in the toaster. Doyle angrily inserted four more slices of bread
and waited.
Again, he heard the meow. Suddenly, the phone rang. Doyle answered it. “I would like
that Skin-Shifter back, please,” the hate-filled voice from the flea-market murmured.
And I think you would like to know how I know about the affair with Doyle and the flea-market- you see, I am the man with the scar.
Hello Renee,
May I please have your toaster when you are finished getting all of the kittens you want?
Your story is non-fiction, right? You described it so clearly I know it is a true story. Perhaps you can submit it to a cat magazine?
I love the description of the kittens coming out of the toaster. I wonder if you get a different kind of kitten if you use rye bread?
xo
Love Harper
The stories are great! What a wonderful way to end a Friday by reading wonderful stories that make me smile 🙂 The kitties and I may try one of the exercises this weekend since I’m stuck at work and they are home sleeping. Mittens happens to be a wonderful story writer — she helps her boy Mac write stories all the time! Hugs and purrs to you Harper!!!
Hey Harper, Your request to write a 15 minute practice has turned out to be a much longer than 15 minute story ( still being crafted and written) I dont know where its going but so far what I can see is its going to be a cats vs the world kinda story… Go cats go.. and their puppy side kicks too. Ruff Ruff
I’m starting a new short story, and, what do you know, it has a cat in it! Please post feedback! 🙂
THE CAT’S LABYRINTH
When I wake, I am not in my bed, nor even my room. Shabby stone walls covered in ivy are all around, branching off in different directions behind and in front. They are quite tall, at least ten feet.
I sit up immediately, my heart pounding.
Where am I?
A ginger cat emerges from the shadows. Her fur is slightly dirty and ruffled, but she doesn’t look unhealthy.
The cat speaks. “You have one hour. Do not touch the walls.”
She begins to walk away.
“Wait!” I yell. She turns around. “Where am I?” I ask, hysterical. “What do you want with me? What is this place?”
The cat gives an impatient huff. “You are in my labyrinth. Your goal is simple. Find the center of the maze. You have one hour. Do not touch the walls,” she repeats.
She pauses. “You want to see your sister again, do you not?”
I gasp. Tally? Here?
“I– What? You have Tally? I don’t even– My sister– What is going on here, cat?” I stand up, ready to strangle her if I have to.
She takes a step backward and narrows her sharp green eyes dangerously.
“First of all, you may call me by my name, Ari. I have been more than generous up to this point. You have one hour. If you want to save your precious bratty sister, I suggest you start looking soon!”
With that, she stalks off through the winding maze.