Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Whiskered Prequel "Credibility" (Summer Fiction #1)

A/N: Well, this is the first bit of my summer fiction ideas. I think I've been seriously missing my cats or something, because well, you'll see, there's cat stuff in here. LOL. Anyway, two finals down, more to go, so I'm back to studying and whatever. This was today's prompt fiction that somehow turned into a story idea and I had to make myself stop writing it. Enjoy! (and let me know if you'd like to see more, this is probably more of a prequel than anything else.) Cheers! ~S

Found on Google. I own nothing. 


PROMPT FICTION SNIPPET

"Credibility? Is that what this comes down to?" Monica stared at him in a mixture of horror and confusion. "Why you two-faced, lying-! I can't believe this." She sputtered, her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. "You can't do this to me."

"You'll fine, Miss. Montanica," Jordan Cash calmly shook out his sunglasses and slid them on his face. "That I can do just about anything I like. It really isn't something that well, I'd expect you to understand. We can't just hire anyone."

"This isn't a matter of hiring anyone, it's--it's discrimination!" She snapped, feeling her face heat up to an unhealthy shade of red. "You're picking on me, because I'm a woman!"

Smooth eyebrows arched up. "My, my, those are certainly quite weighty accusations my dear." He murmured. "I'm afraid that you simply can't go around spreading that sort of news without something to back it up." He peered at her over the tops of his tinted lenses. "You do have some sort of proof, don't you?"

Monica blinked.

"I thought so." He sighed. "Thank you for your time, it was good to-"

"You'll wish you hadn't done this." Monica swallowed. She stepped to the side before his shoulder could brush against her as he walked past. "You will regret it."

"Allow me to be the judge of that." Jordan winked. He dipped into one jacket pocket for the perpetual pack of cigarettes. "When you feel that you have something worthy of our esteemed company, then do come on by. I'd be happy to give you another trial run."

*****

"We've got him, Chief." Monica slumped down in the cramped chair in the back of the surveilance van. She reached up,  yanking at the wig that made her head feel so itchy. "You are never getting me to go back out there." She scowled. "Never, I swear it."

"Wasn't that bad, kitty kat." Her handler, Carol grinned widely as she tossed her a bottle of water. "Stop doing that with your ears."

"My ears are doing that on their own." Monica retorted, testily. She peeled off the wig, cap, careful of her soft orange, furred cat-ears that stuck up at the top of her head, flicking and swiveling in the direction of sounds that only she could hear. "Don't you have any milk?"

"Blame it on Barnes, he couldn't help himself." Carol rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb towards the second Felinesque member of their squad. Barnes was a sleek, black tom, in terms of Monica's typical orange-stripe tabby look.

"If this doesn't work," Chief Larson frowned. "You won't have a choice."

"Oh yes we do." There was a faint hint of a growl in Monica's voice as she turned to scowl at her team leader and district head. Her irises began to morph from the trademark round orbs of a human, narrowing to the slit-eyed cat-pupils, the most obvious sign that her temper was fraying neatly around the edges. "If I have to see or speak to him again, I'll kill him, Chief. There is no other way around it."

Bushy white eyebrows rose up to a snowy white hairline. "That's a bit...much, even for you."

Monica winced as a half-yowl came out of her throat before the words did. "Don't, just don't." She said, wearily. "You have no idea how hard it was to stand there and pretend to be human." She shuddered all over. "I don't--I don't want him to get away with this and I don't think I could take this cover up again, I'd have to do something else if this doesn't work."

Chief Larson regarded her for a moment, then gave a short nod. "I suppose we can move in." He said, at last. "I've always trusted your judgment and somehow, it's never wrong. You're sure now?"

Monica sucked in a breath. She closed her eyes, ears flattening down against her head as she sifted through the mess of feelings, emotions and solid facts floating through her head. There was nothing that she could think of that was worth stopping the operation for. "That's a go, Chief," she said, relieved. She didn't even complain when his large, calloused hand rested briefly on her head and stroked the soft fur in reward.

"Good kitty." He chuckled. "Carol, make sure you're both on the same wavelength and see about the legal half of things, I'll get the rest of the team moving." He gave a jerk of his head. "Barnes, get your tail over here and be useful!"

(c) Sara Harricharan

Monday, May 6, 2013

Stories (Prompt Fiction)

A/N: Something of a ramble on the prompt of "stories" but I rather like how it turned out. So here we go! I apologize for the shortness, but I'm studying for finals and I can't spare the time to expand it by a couple thousand, hundred words. Cheers! ~S

PROMPT FICTION SNIPPET


Stories.

What are stories?

The collection of blood, sweat, tears, heartache, and headache from the years before us? The speculations of years ahead of us? The reality that lies before us?

Stories.

Precious things.

Dirty, dark, torrid little things.

They exist and they die, just like every legacy ever breathed upon this earth. But still, just as we continue to live and survive, they do the same.

“Tell me a story,” we say.

And someone will answer, “Once upon a time…”

Strangely enough, the best story of all time, began with the simplest of words and settings and places, saying “In the beginning…”

(c) Sara Harricharan

Burning Upside Down (Poem)

A/N: Well, I'm not quite sure how I ended up with poetry over fiction, but the prompt was "Burning" and I had a song kind of stuck in my head, so here we go. I think I'll revise this at some time later, because I don't like the way it ended, but I wanted to post something for today and let everyone know that I'm coming back from the summer. I've missed everyone and I've missed blogging, so head's up for Sara returning in a flurry of words, stories and adventures of all kinds. ~Cheers! 

Found on Google Images. I own nothing.

BURNING UPSIDE DOWN


Burning, twisting, dying, falling.

I’m burning. I’m on fire. It’s sparking, leaping, jumping and trying.

It’s trying to be me.

I’m burning. I’m on fire. I’m flickering, as I fly higher.

Think I’m gonna fall.

Think I’ve done it all.

Help me, please. Give me one reason to live

I’m burning and fading away, without hope for another day.

Don’t let me die so soon. Don’t let me burn right out.

Give me a wish, a dream, a hope. Give me the chance, a final note.

I’ll make you proud and I’ll stand tall.

I’ll make my own place, in history’s hall.

When I am grounded inside and out,

Given thanks for my gifts and showed them off,

My burning flame will remain true

One special memory, one last view.

(c) Sara Harricharan