Three of my Short Writings

Flint's sleek body moved swiftly through rogue forest, his stomach brushing the ground, ears flat, tail flicking back and forth directly behind him. His bright yellow eyes were narrowed, his pace slowing as he met the end of the dark forest that belonged to the rogues. His tail flicked back and forth, teeth slowly parting as he drunk in the scent, heading swiftly toward Rockfall Mountains, and the old home of all the cats. When well out of the eyes of any cats, he stood, running full tilt, paws beating the ground rythmically.

||--&&Week later&&--||

Flint's spine seem to twist in anticipation as he watched from the bushes, a snarl placed on his face. His sharp eyes watched as Fogstar's gaurds killed an intruding rogue. He smirked. They wouldn't dare. Standing straight, he moved with defiance and authority through the bushes and onto the deadened lands of what used to be RockClan. The grass was gone, the stench that of blood, death and decay, the trees half-dead. This lasted as far as the eye could see, not even the faintest traces of the dogs that once terrorized the Clans and caused them to leave still lingered her.

A single gaurd approached Flint with a growl, but the black tom bared his teeth, snarling, "Flint, rogue leader, here to see Fogstar about a request." The gaurd narrowed his dull, black eyes but nodded, turning and wordlessly leading the rogue leader toward the large camp. Three more gaurds seemed to melt out of the shadows, surrounding the average sized black tom.

"Flint?" Fogstar growled, his pelt rugged and torn from many deaths, yet his eyes alight with the fire of restored nine lives and power. The Siberian tomcat stepped up to the sleek black rogue leader, his ice blue eyes narrowed. "What brings you here, of all places? You left with the Clans, why have you returned?" His voice was deeper, more rough, scars on his neck showing a past death that still affected his once clear, crisp voice.

"Not with them, but after them," Flint corrected bravely, looking the slightly larger cat in the eye. "We followed, because our place is terrorizing the Clans. Why have you stayed behind?"

Fogstar snarled, fur bristling. "I have stayed, because I was asked to lead this combined Clan," he growled, "SpiritClan, DawnClan, DreamClan and NightClan perished from the dogs, yet a few servived. With no other Clans to turn to, they asked /me/ to lead them on. I accepted, claiming the territory of all the gone Clans."

Flint nodded, as if understanding. "But I have come with a request for you and your Clan," he meowed. "My Rogue allience has strengthened, especially with the arrival of the Seven Sins. I plan to take back what was mine, and I am willing to let your Clan walk along mine, to take the Clan territories."

Fogstar snarled, looking ready to leap. "My Clan follows my orders, not some mangy rogues! I will fight alongside your Clan, but you take no more than I take, if not less."

Flint glared, looking ready to argue, but with a quick glance around, he noted the fact that he would be majorly outnumbered. "Fine," he growled stiffly. "Agreed."

Fogstar smirked in approval, raising his head in defiance. With a loud, bellowing yowl, he summoned his Warriors.

||--&&Present&&--||

Fogstar moved smoothly through the forest, moving with greath agility around the rocks and other debris. His toes were expanded, making his paws more muffled when they hit the ground. Behind him walked an army's worth of cats, with the sleek body of Flint a few steps behind the DarkClan leader.

"What's your plan?" Flint asked quietly, looking at Fogstar. His voice was low, he having gotten over the fact that he lost the argument against the well-worn tomcat.

"That new Clan? You say RockClan?" Fogstar murmered under his breath, his concentraition elsewhere. "I take it over. I need a base, a place where my Clan can rest. And what better, than to reclaim my old placement back within the Clans of bracken, earth and mountain?" A sly grin slowly spread across his face, lighting his foggy gray features up with the devil himself.

Flint stared at the cat, before his lips pulled back in a snarl. "I will go assemble my cats," he growled, taking a few steps toward the dark forest but Fogstar's growl stopped him, and he looked back.

"Flint, this is my job, it will be my territory. My Clan can handle this ourselves," he growled, "Go home. Ready your cats. And when I send a warrior, we will make plans for the raid on the others."

Flint growled stiffly, but nodded, turning and leaping through the bushes. He kept low again as he neared the BrackenClan border, knowing a patrol at any moment could see him. For all the Clans knew, he was still gone, Falcontooth still in his place. He let out yet another devilish grin, but continued.

Fogstar stood still, watching him go. When the tom was gone from the foggy gray Siberian cat's sight, he flicked his tail, leading his warriors at a quicker pace toward RockClan. At the border, he glanced back. A tom at the back gave a curt nod, and the leader looked forward again. With a swish of his tail, he lead his warriors at full tilt into the foreign land, letting out a thundering battle cry as he neared the RockClan camp.

My eyes slowly watch as the 11 year-old girl moves around her house, the usual smile missing from her lips, her brown eyes somewhat dull, not much emotion showing in them. Even though I don’t remember ever meeting this young girl, I have a feeling I know her from somewhere. Her shattered feelings are coursing through my body, as if my own soul had been ruined, shattered, torn, broken.

A tear rolls down my dry face, watching as she sat down in her small room, things scattered everywhere, picking up a picture of her father. Before I could even prepare myself, her body shook with a sob and she turned, laying her head on her pillow and letting it out, but stopping moments later, forcing herself to be strong and sitting herself back up, wiping the tears from her eyes.

‘For her dad,’ I thought, not even realizing what it meant at the time.

“Hello?” I call softly, but she seems unable to hear me as she stands, the sound of the door opening and closing making her jump to her feet. I can’t help but feel a sense of forbidding… but from what?

I blinked, and the scene was gone. Instead, I stood in the same room but at an earlier time, the feeling of the weekend surrounding me. The girl sits on her bed, the door closed as she speaks with her grandmother. The sounds of quiet talking, slowly becoming more intense, came from the next room, the living room. Soon, the arguing started again – her dad and step-mother. Her father, trying to calm his wife down, was only working himself up, her anger getting worse and worse.

But before I could see or hear anymore, I found myself standing in the living room, watching as the girl stood in her dad’s bedroom doorway, tears streaming down her face. Her step-mother shattered a collectable plate on the dresser, her dad in tears as he tried to talk her step-mother out of what she was doing. The women simply screamed back a retort, grabbing the plants her father had worked hard to grow and keep alive, ripping them apart and throwing them out the window and into the early summer air. The girl screamed, only to be shoved out of the way as her step-mother stomped out the door, leaving the house. I watch as she walks up to her father, my heart aching, face stained. She bends down, hugging him, now a 12 year old. She told him she was going to skip summer school today, saying she wanted to stay home and help out. Though, despite me not knowing her, I knew the true reason – she was too afraid. Her father had already said he was going to leave, making her move in with her mom, because he wanted to go and start over. Her tears had stopped him for the time being, but his words continued to ring through her ears, her mind, shattering her with each echo.

And again I found myself standing in the kitchen, right behind the girl. I watched as her dad crouched down, in front of her step-mother with his hand over the eye on the remote so she couldn’t turn the TV on, so she could listen to him. But she jumped up, screaming that he had hit her arm, calling for the neighbors to call the police. A sense of dread and hatred drown out any other feelings as I saw the girl’s face fill with horror, her dad’s with tears as he tried to explain to the screaming neighbor teenager that he didn’t do anything, that he was merely talking… but no one believed him. He went over to his daughter, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs, to where the cops were first pulling up. The girl’s face was contorted with horror, sobs breaking out of her as she explained what happened, pleading to them that they didn’t take her dad away, as he did nothing…

The police left with one warning, as they had been called many times before, “I suggest one of you leave. If we get called here another time, someone is going to jail.”

The girl looked back at her neighbors as they stood next to her step-mom. Tears of anger now spilled out of her eyes. The younger girl had been her friend. She had trusted her… but she was wrong. She turned quickly and raced after her father as he walked to work, worked up, his walking jagged.

I now stood outside of the girl’s father’s car, watching as the two tried to get some sleep on the highway stop. The car was filled with as much valuable things they could fit. The girl blinked open her eyes, staring up at the night sky, her face hollow and broken.

It was then that I realized, with every piece of my shattered heart, this little girl was me… this little girl was me after She took everything away. After She tried to ruin my life. She took everything from me, everything that mattered.

I closed my eyes, only to receive more memories flashing past my closed lids. Walking into Social services next to my mom, tears welling in my eyes, heart heavy with dread. She’d called them, saying my dad was abusing me. She had stolen from him, but that wasn’t enough – he still had his daughter, and now was her chance to take her away. The slight feeling of relief as the social worker said nothing was wrong, that it was a false report.

Watching as I walked out of my last hour in 7th grade, only to be shoved into the wall as Her daughter appeared through the crowd of students. I watched myself go home in sobs, terror streaking my face and eyes. They’d found me.

I watched as I got out of the house and into my mom’s car. We’re on our way to go to the hospital and visit my grandpa who had just had a stroke. The conversation with my mom will forever ring through my ears.

“There is a white care sitting in front of your house. Do you know them?” she questions and I shake my head.

“No. The bar is just down the street, we get that a lot.” I answer. My mom nods in acceptance, but as we pass the white car, I stare in horror at the face. She’d found me yet again. My mom notices and asks what’s wrong, so I tell her. She watched as She follows us, slamming on the gas, we soon left her behind. The last time I saw her, though I know she’s there, waiting for her next chance.

Sitting here, I can't help but recall all you did to me.
You shattered my heart, changed my life for the worse.
I can never again be the one who I used to be known as.
I have to watch my back, in dead fear you might be watching, waiting.
Why me?

I do as people say and think of our happy memories together, I try and focus to enjoy the memories of the things we did together, but that only makes it worse. The pain at your lose shatters through my broken soul, leaving me down on my knees crying because those happy memories only lead to the pain of your loss, the pain that I’ll never once see you again, the pain of the last memory, the pain of your suffering, your death…

The sharp visuals of the needle injected; the constant feeling of your heartbeat on my hand slow to nothing and the sound of the doctor’s voice telling us you were gone. The nightmare of wrapping you up for the last time, of my father setting you gently in your grave, the dirt being laid over you and the lifelessness of the last time I saw you. The realization that you were gone hitting and the grief gripping my heart harder than an eagle’s talon on its prey.

I tried to solve it, I did many things. I wait for the bus by you, I created a character that your heart and soul can continue on to enchant others with your kindness and selflessness. I think about you every day, clinging to the hopes that one day, I’ll hear one whisper, see one hair, that will tell me you watch over me, you haven’t forgotten, that you are still there for me.

When I was young, I used to dream that you would always be there, that you were my Guardian Angel and that you’d never leave me. I could trust you with my deepest secrets, my deepest desires, and knew you always listened.

Gibby, my darling beautiful cat, don’t forget me and leave my soul shattered into a million pieces, keep watch and remember, as I will always do you.