Guarding The Ladder.

by tiffanyMy Author's Portfolio, Real Life, short stories, Short Stories Portfolio, Stand Alone Short Stories July 30, 2015May 5, 2020One Comment

Do not let the picture above fool you. Otis is not an ordinary cat. He is a fierce feline focused on protecting the one who feeds him. He is like a soldier and takes on this role every night. What is this hero of a cat protecting me from? Well, I am not sure, but it may be from falling off my bed, or it could be the window. Whatever the danger, he protects me from it every single night.

Let me explain how he protects me. His heroism entails walking the perimeter of my bed, making sure that the only exit from the loft bed is still the ladder. He then makes sure that I am safe by sniffing my face. Finally, he is ready to buckle down in his post. He stretches out as he lies down right at the opening for the ladder. With courage, he will stay at his post, keeping watch unless he falls asleep until my morning alarm goes off. Most days he will even stay pass the alarm going off and it will take me nearly throwing him down the ladder for him to move.

Now, since I am the one being protected, I cannot be the first one out of the bed. He cannot and will not simply move aside. This cat needs to clear the area, or at least the ladder. He makes his safety check by climbing down part way, stopping at the window for a moment, and going out the window onto the roof.

His reward for protecting me all night is his breakfast that I pour him, while I am still asleep.

At least, that is what I am telling myself. In all honesty, he most likely is just being a butt and blocking the ladder, because he knows it annoys me. I will keep trying to convince myself that he is protecting me because murdering a cat is frowned upon.

Want More?

If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube.

I am a Dancing Bagel

by tiffanyI Am A Bagel, my creative self July 23, 2015One Comment

I was convinced by Cupcake that I should try hanging out with other baked goods. It should be easy to find things in common, since we at least have some sort of the same make up. After I agreed, he introduced me to Croissant, Muffin, and Doughnut. Doughnut and I did bond right away, since we found we had similar interests. She just seemed sweeter and more energized than I was. I found that Muffin was also pretty sweet and had her own flavor for life. Croissant did not seem to mix well with us, but that was mostly because there was a bit of a language barrier.

It was Croissant’s idea that we go out dancing just the girls. I wasn’t sure about excluding Cupcake, but he wanted me to bond with the girls. That night the girls all went to the loud night club and immediately felt out-of-place. There was not a baked good in sight. Instead the club was filled with vegetables and meats. We decided that it was okay that we did not exactly fit in with the other people, we were still going to have a good time. We went to the bar and ordered our drinks.

A minute had not even passed before a thick steak bumped my arm which made me spill my drink all over myself. I was fine though and was able to still enjoy myself. I just was not able to enjoy that drink.

The night quickly went from bad to worst. The place was hot and humid which Doughnut did not like at all. It seemed none of the meat had any brains and kept trying to dance with Croissant who was not enjoying getting their sweat on her. She wasn’t even near the dance floor or dancing, but the meat kept coming over to her. Muffin tried her hardest to dance on the dance floor, but was getting agitated by the vegetables vibrating their bodies into her instead of actually dancing.

We finally called it a night after only an hour at the club. We walked out of the club a little sticky and very disgusted. None of us wanted to socialize any more after that, so we decided to all head our separate ways and meet up for a quiet lunch after a couple of days.

What I learned from that experience was that it is nice to hang out with other baked goods, but you should always do some research into the night club you are going to.

Otis, The Hunter.

by tiffanyReal Life, short stories, Stand Alone Short Stories July 22, 2015March 19, 2019One Comment

Otis, The Hunter.

Otis, the fat grayish-tan feline with thick black stripes, almost sat down next to me as if he wanted to be near the comfort of a human. Before his bum touched the blanket I had brought out onto the roof, Otis heard a noise. It was the famed climbing of a squirrel, that needed to be hunted. There was no time to cuddle the squirrel invader had to be stopped. Only the heroic house cat could hunt and stop this beast, so Otis crouched down and very slightly crept to the skylight, that since it was raised gave a littler cover for his sneak attack. Then since time was of the essence he bolted towards the wild beast, which actually gave the squirrel enough time to see the house cat and climb back to the top of the tree yelling at the cat as it climbed. Otis, who thought himself brave and a great hunter,continued to stalked the frightened and angry sounding squirrel to another higher tree.

Unfortunately the hunt had to end since Otis is a fat house cat who could not even get onto one of the trees. After a minute or less Otis came back to the blanket wanting the petting he ran away from a few moments earlier.

My Nightmare Mind Box

by tiffanymonologue, my creative self July 21, 2015One Comment

My mind is a box, lately, that I am trapped inside. My optimism says there must be a door, a window, or a hidden way out. I don’t see one. All I see are wall entrapping myself in my mind causing me to be unable to do much of anything I would consider being me.

To the left is the security of my day job, creating a thick time-consuming wall. To the right is my obligations and my bills stacked as high as my job with no holes to escape from. Behind me is my past failures, current fears, and reminders that the future can not be known. There is a reason my back is towards that wall, by focusing on that wall I would sit down, stop fighting and accept the box I’m in. Above me, on the ceiling of this box are all the people, careers, and talents that I compare myself to. I place them above me, although I am the only me. Below me are all my ideas trapped under glass in a cloudy stew of tar and mire. Still I know they’re there, just like a mother knows her baby. In front of me are painting of could-be’s, maybe’s, and the future if I only live my current life . I know there are keys to unlock each painting, except for the immanent future, that one does not need a key. The keys to my dream futures are unknown, lost or far from me. I do not believe they are in this box. All I can do is stand and look at the pretty pictures hoping and looking for at least one key.

Perhaps breaking the glass under my feet will lead to a key.

Game ( A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetry July 8, 2015May 23, 20203 Comments

Let me think.
I need to ponder,
If I choose wrong
I may meet an ogre.

What would she do?
Where should they go?
There are many enemies around
and my rolls have been low.

My spells are running out.
There is no rest in sight.
I think ogres are getting closer.
I’m sure they want to fight.

A party member is running off.
I guess we all should follow.
If we run into a dragon.
I’ll give it that party member to swallow.

Hey DM do I get inspiration?

I hope you guys liked this poem. Let me know what you think.

Artist ( A Monologue)

by tiffanymonologue July 7, 2015October 10, 20198 Comments

I want to boldly tell you; I am an artist. I’m sure you already knew that or at least suspected. I mean how can anyone really hide their creativity? I know I’ve tried to hide or ignore my creative side, wanting to be normal. I yearned for a quiet mind that could simply observes the world and did not have a need to share its beauty.

Yes, there was a time I wanted to be normal, but not any more. An ordinary life in no life for me and if it seems like my life is just like yours ask me what I’m thinking about. For you see I have worlds and universes living in my head. My mind is filled with lands of poetry, worlds of paintings, and many stories in many different universes. They are all just waiting to be created.

When I am at my day job tapping the keys of my computer part of my mind may be trapping dragons to get to the keys of a prison to rescue some royalty. While I’m driving home I am most likely also involved in an elaborate love affair that will tragically end when I park my car. If I am watching the sunset I am also memorizing the colors in hopes that I could paint it one day.

You see my mind is not a quiet place most of the time, which now I love. It makes my life extraordinary in an ordinary world. This is why I must boldly tell you; I am an artist. I’m sure you already knew that or at least suspected.

UPDATE

A while ago I did record a reading of this monologue. I want to share it with you now.

A Whispered Promise ( a monologue)

by tiffanymonologue July 3, 2015No Comments

As I am worrying and becoming stressed, a whispering voice says,”be patient.” So, I will be patient, but there is a difference between waiting ideally while your time and talents dwindle away and being patient. I will be patient, but I will still act on opportunities, and work on my talents. I will wonder down the path of life until I can run down the road, that I know it will become.

The timing may not be right, at this moment. This moment is fleeting, though, and soon will be over. I will be patient in my working until it is time to leap.

A Pondering Poem

by tiffanyPoetry July 2, 2015One Comment

Can art go on art;
Laying on it like a lover?
One inspiring the other,
romantically entangled,
but no romance to handle?

Would the art be part of the other art;
like one piece of the whole is the heart?
It would supply life,
living as section,
being whole by being only a part.

This is just a fast little poem, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

In This Moment ( a monologue)

by tiffanymonologue July 1, 2015One Comment

What is important in my life at this moment? I am,well me and how the ink of my pen looks as it glides across the page. The shapes and lines of the words could be art in of themselves. Simple, smooth, yet they still hold a quality of complexity.

No, nothing to serious is important to me at this moment. I don’t have the energy to think to deeply on any subject. Instead I will simply watch the shapes come to life as my pen drags on.

Perhaps it is the light of the setting sun causing the almost magical make up of the ink on the paper or perhaps it’s the difference in pen. Have I become so accustomed to the think bold lines of my newly bough fountain pen already, that this thin lines ball point pen looks more elegant with its writing? I will say that it is a combination and leave it at that. I know it will not matter in a moment or two either way, when the sun sets or my mind wonders to the next topic to create.

Either way and for what ever the reason pen to paper is what is important to me at this moment.

Dark Den (A Poem)

by tiffanyPoetry June 30, 2015One Comment

Please give me,
a dark den,
with a cool current flowing through.
Let the ground be a bed,
not dirt or grass.
Really I just want a dark den
to lay my bed.

For you see
I simply don’t want to be me.
Not that I do not like being me,
simply put I don’t want to be.
Just for a time,
just for a night.

All I want to be
is in a dark den,
one that is cool,
with my beautiful bed
to curl up comfy in.