Novella - Chapter 8Chapter 8 Understanding Nobility and Ignoring Yesterday
Down low to the ground, in that building that shows movies to no one, a single mouse is searching for food along the wooden floor; zipping with great speed as stealthy eyes watch the little beast's every movement. Persian Cat sits gently on one of the kitchen counters inside Samantha's retro-humble apartment. The yellow of the feline's eyes keeping close eye on its target. Royalty isn't above hunting. Hunting is a noble and honored sport. Hunting strengthens the mind and body. Hunting keeps the old alive and alert. Hunting is a fact of nature that even a proud Persian can not deny. Hunting gets the blood pumping and the heart racing. Hunting is good for the soul and spirit. Hunting is something no creature is above. Hunting is also very fun, especially for a cat on the prowl. Today, however, is that one mouse's lucky day. Samantha wakes with a quick stir and startles the little thing back into hiding. Safe from those watchi
Novella - Chapter SevenChapter 7 - A Letter from Narration
At this point it is possible to make assumptions about the characters in our story. It is possible to see beyond the veil that is written and piece together the pieces that have been tossed about the ground. The puzzle seems to be slowly putting itself into place but then an odd piece pulls itself to light and we can not make heads or tails of it. The color of this piece does not fit with the picture on the box, but I tell you this small piece does not come from a different puzzle.
That small piece will have you wondering and wondering, while yet all the other pieces slowly fit themselves together and the picture is slowly revealed. However you will also notice that the image on the box is not exactly the puzzle you are piecing together. Something is not quite right, yet you are unsure what it is. As time passes you now think you know exactly where that odd piece from before was meant to go, yet there is something wrong again. The
Novella - Chapter 2Chapter Two The Frog Croaks -or- Breaking Beauty
Sitting on a lily pad and resting in a man-made pond at the top of a building there croaks a frog in the rain. That winter rain is good for the frogs but only until it snows. Once the snow falls that little green master-singer will be stuck to the water he was only just swimming in the day before. Though in this city, the croak of a frog is something of an imagination boggler. All else is death-sirens and the sounds of police on radios, everything is chaos and no one is safe. Such a sad city where the sound of a frog in the winter rain is an astonishment to the mind. He keeps croaking as the rain falls, only leaving that small little patch of green when a large iron door is opened.
The door slams open, sending more than the frog and his lily pad for a jolt. Birds that forgot to leave for the winter panic, though they can not fly away. The rain is too heavy and they would surly drown before getting far. The birds simply ruff