llothcat's fiction portal: March 2011

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Awesome, continued, part 11

This story hasn't vanished! It's now available for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (7, 2011) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Ode to the bogenvilla, revisited..

A/n: another long day. So long that I forgot to post this.

--oo--

brilliant red vibrant
orange flame flowers
thorny sticks jutting
as I chopped for hours

Branches stuffed thickly
With featherlike fronds
Dried up past their prime
And done in the lawn

Twisting vinery
Oh ow look now I
Blink hard, tearing fast
Think I got my eye

oh how I wish that
death take you from me
instead I reduce
Your bows like a tree

Sent via Blackhole

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

ode to the bogenvilla

A/n: poetry break, apologies, It's been a long day.

--oo--

brilliant red vibrant
orange flame flowers
thorny sticks jutting
as I chopped for hours

oh how I wish that
death take you from me
instead I reduce
full bows like a tree

Monday, March 28, 2011

Awesome.. Continued.. Part 10

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Awesome..continued.. Part 9

Saturday, March 26, 2011

awesome.. continued..part 8

Friday, March 25, 2011

Awesome..continued...part 7

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Awesome..cont...part 6

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Awesome...continued..part 5

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

kosher for zombies..revisited

In this dark
Shameful hour
Rotting corpses
Deem devour
Us
Yes
Us
Oh dear
oh dear
Run love run
Don't let them
Come near

Oh wait
what's this
They stumble
And find
A book
The Good Book
Scrawled
Upon the spine

Within
the damp pages
Splashed with
Precious
red liquid
Were listed
all these rules
By which
The undead
Existed

Some burly men
healthy and brave
took flight
just then
alas torn
to their graves

They gawked
We gasped
Some hissed
like an asp
moaning pitiful wails
brimming of doom
for gory details
within the tome

frail women then
took up for us
the horridly thick
omnibus
and tossed it flung it
towards the dead
where it somehow struck
one in the head.

flailing rot
and hoary limbs
fell down hard
and failed
yes failed
to rise again.

and so we stood
sodden
and crazed
and I think
quite a bit
just slightly
amazed.

Some took up arms
so simple
so plain
and the odd shovel
stuck out,
took aim
striking back
and causing trouble.

It wasn't pretty
so please don't frown
the dead can't feel
their broken crowns.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Awesome continued part four..

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Awesome.. Continued part 3..

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Awesome.. Continued...

Friday, March 18, 2011

Awesome

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Happy saint paddy's day!

It was a fine sunny day, and the sunlight dabbled golden green through the canopy of high branches.
Mr. Smith leaned his back into the lonely park bench. He carefully rustled a page of the newspaper that he was not reading, and held it aloft between his hands as he crossed one ankle over the other. He even admired the shine glimmering off his just polished shoes.

Dressed finely in a tailored pin stripe suit, he thought of himself as a picture of a man that was intent on minding his own business. At the moment, his own business was certainly not what he was minding.

"No." said the high pitched voice from beneath neatly trimmed brush behind him. "You do it."

"You." Replied a similar high pitched whisper from the same brush.
"You do it."

Mr. Smith thought the voices sounded familiar. Perhaps they belonged to the pair of brothers that were his neighbors. He was aware today was a weekday, and he wondered vaguely why they weren't in school at this time in the morning.

He was sure they were young boys, those two, of about the age of six or seven.

Whispering as they were to one another, they had to be up to some sort of mischief.

"No, you."

"You."

"Tcha!"

"Go on."

"No! You."

Mr. Smith thinned his lips in a wide grin. He held back a chuckle as he listened in on the easily heard argument.

Soon enough, he heard the shuffling crunch of dead leaves, followed by muffled thumps of hurried footsteps headed his way. As they drew closer, he lifted his brows and pretended to be far too absorbed in the words printed before him to be concerned with anything around him.

A heartbeat followed a excited, in drawn breath.

Mr. Smith snapped the paper down hard upon both boys' heads.

He hissed as he felt painful twinges on his forearm.

He glanced down and frowned at the two pairs of stubby fingers pinching his sleeve between chubby thumbs.

He then glared at the pair of watery brown eyes looking owlishly up at him.

"What's the meaning of this!?" He demanded in his best commanding voice.

One boy cringed back, and dropped his hold as he examined his shoes. The other, with a hint of defiance, said,

"You're not wearing green."

Mr. Smith brows knitted together.

"Green you say?"

"It's St. Patrick's Day. You're supposed to wear green on St. Patrick's Day."

"Only if you're catholic, dear boy. " Mr. Smith smirked, and pointed to his bright orange tie beneath his chin. He was rather proud he had found it.

Both boys widened their eyes at his gesture, and a two pairs of skewed eyebrows raised in confusion.

"You wear orange if you're Protestant." Mr. Smith stated with authority, and raised his nose slightly in superiority. In the silence that followed, he reopened his newspaper.

Sent via Blackhole

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Kosher for zombies

A/N: to break things up, since I'm feeling like I'm in a bit of a ditch, I thing I will be writing a poem tonight. Yeah. A poem
---ooo---
In this dark
Shameful hour
Rotting corpses
Deem devour
Us
Yes
Us
Oh dear
oh dear
Run love run
Don't let them
Come near
Oh wait
what's this
They stumble
And find
A book
The Good Book
Scrawled
Upon the spine
Within
the damp pages
Splashed with
Precious
red liquid
Were listed
all these rules
By which
The undead
Existed

Sent via Blackhole

Monday, March 14, 2011

Shopping trip...

This story hasn't vanishied! It's now availble for purchase at Amazon.com at the Kindle store (4/08/11) in the book: Llothcat's Fictional Portal, by Debra Colvin. You don't even need a Kindle device to download the book, as you can download the free program to any pc. I happen to have the free application on my blackberry phone. Any questions, comments,etc.can be e-mailed to directly at: llothcat@sbcglobal.net

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Perchance to dream...

Roy knew he wasn't supposed to be here, in this big fancy house. He didn't own it, and didn't pay a single dime in rent. He had found the door was open, and the place completely empty. And, well, it had been a long while since he had slept in any semblance of a bed.

He stretched and yawned the next morning, enjoying the softness of the mattress. The clean white scent of the puffy quilts piled on top of his withered body had made him nice an warm for the first time in his recent memory.

He took the time to admire the nice view of the barren wastes. He knew he was pushing his luck. Staying this long. His ears twitched and reached, but not a sound broke the peace of the place. He was the house's only current guest.

He stumbled his way down the stairs, trudging towards the kitchen. Better to leave by the back rather than the front. Bitter experience said. Less of a chance of getting confronted by outrage.

He was trespassing. He knew. And the owner had every right to be angry at him for doing so. They didn't seem the friendly sort, whoever they were.

He remembered the coiled barb wire shredding through his jeans as he scrambled over the chain link fence that surround this quaint place.

He was baffled by whoever had the notion to occasionally tack that flat metal plate on the fence at odd intervals. Those things made a lousy sort barrier from the cutting wind, and the colors with odd shapes painted upon them were fascinating to look at. Yes. For a second or two. That told him that someone here was well off enough to enjoy playing with such trivial things.

Daily survival was all that Roy could manage, thank you.

A blinding flash stole his mind.

The ground jumped beneath his feet, and he widened his eyes. He heard glass clinking upon glass, the rough groaning of the very walls as they reluctantly moved. He wanted so much to run from the unsettling noises and vibrations.

Then, in a hush of silence, it all stopped.

His muscles ached from sustaining at crouch he had balled himself into. In the growing grey, he could make out light shadows. Basic shapes. The curve of his forearms first, as he held them protectively over his head. Then the comforting straight edges of the walls.

He had time to let out a breath before faint sirens began wailing in the distance. His glance towards the window revealed that the sky was on fire.

Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....

Saturday, March 12, 2011

“Resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my saber.”

A/N: This prompt was so wacky, I immediately thought back on the "donut hole" piece. I have promised to write about the block wide food fight, and I really want to do it. I actually thought this would be it, but..well... It took another direction. Not much more than a drabble, I'm afraid, but it is in that "universe".

---ooo--

After the joke of a trial, one day blended into the next.

He was on his back on the slab of a mattress. He stared at the ceiling for a while. He wasn't quite sure just when it was he dozed off, but the light from the tiny window stung his eyes near enough to rose him from slumber.

With a groan, he rolled upright to dangle his bare feet over the edge.

The brown haired man then leaned over his knees and pulled down the hem of his only possession: a thin tshirt. It was a few sizes too small, but he looked down at his chest to admire the word, "thief", printed there so boldly in bright green. He was surprised that he was allowed to have it at all as the rest of his clothes were the well worn jumpsuits, bright orange dulled to nearly brown from use and many washings. Such was life in jail.

He stretched his arms out before him, linking his fingers together, and directed his gaze to the bars which contained him in this mostly barren, institutionally gray room.

"This is all your fault, you know." Wafted in a reedy voice. He scowled deeply, knowing very well just who it belonged to.

"Oh, shut the hell up." The man grumbled in reply, and rubbed the back of his neck as he rolled his head. A few dull "pops" worked the kinks out just fine, but he still wished for a proper pillow to rest on.

"Resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of my saber." Hissed an off kilter retort.

The man curled his lip and wondered if his partner would ever be sane. He knew it was a moot point to bicker further with the wild haired man occupying the next cell, and allowed his expression to shift into a huge yawn.

Two months in. And with good behavior, two months to go.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....

Friday, March 11, 2011

Pocketfull of radiation, final arc..

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Pocketful of radiation, final arc

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

nuclear platypus..cont...

A/N: gah! Ran out of time.. This didn't quite develop into a proper tale just yet, but it's getting there.

---ooo---

"And we're moving... this way, please, ladies and gentlemen.." Said a neatly dressed young lady with a tidy updo and a professionally tight smile.

George heard the echoing click of many heels against polished wood floors, and folded his arms. He allowed a few of the other to pass him by as he frowned thoughtfully before a sign. He used his peripheral vision to spot his true objective, while he pretended to read. Like all the others around the diamond, it portrayed the dread end of a previous owner.

'So tempting' thought George as he gazed hungrily at rare bauble lounging beneath the glass box. Easily the size of a large grapefruit, the diamond had been carved into a unique oval shape. His current client revealed that much at least, and that was only because George had taken the time to find his weakness: a certain beloved, and highly addictive fancy coffee.

He made some quick calculations, and glanced again to his precalculated point. The heist would be a simple thing to accomplish, by his estimation.

"Almost as though they want it gone.." He mumbled to himself a few hours later, now standing upon the barren roof of the museum. He shrugged his shoulders at the stray thought, and tightened the nylon ropes through the pulley of his vest.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Cop out haiku.

A/n: Looooong day. Basically, I have yet to go to sleep since I got off work at 7am. It's 6pm now. Which means I'll have been up for 24 hours in about 4 more. Still. I want to write something, since it is my new years resolution to do so.

Eh. Poetry before dream time. I'll even cop out and do a quick haiku.

--oo--

Pretty light green sprouts
Poking along dappled path
Satisfaction works.

Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....

Monday, March 7, 2011

Overgrown and forgotten...

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Nuclear Platypus

Prompt
Rewrite. Cleanup. Fixing awful bad phrasing and awkward ideas. Hope it reads better than the first verson, which will be destroyed in five..four.. Three...
---ooo---
Ginny Smith figured she could be forgiven for her base rudeness. She scowled as she shoved a grey flannel suited man aside and out of her immediate path, and glared when a similarly suited man blithely stepped in his place.

She deployed her elbows and shouldered her way through, receiving glares, harsh words, and returning painful jabs.

People, normal people that is, would certainly be understanding, and even sympathetic, towards her if they knew her reasons. Granted, most of those reasons revolved about a certain unforgiving boss, who was, at the moment, entertaining a prospective client. This particular prospective client had a certain well-known addiction to a dark percolating liquid called coffee, the best of which was served at the far end of this crowded square.

"He sends me to get coffee." She groused in her mind, "What am I, a damn secretary?"

She ducked and weaved around another suited man in the crowd. She felt an unwelcome grope from the man's hands. He even went so far as to squeeze the firm flesh.

"EXCUSE ME!!" She snarled, reaching up behind her with one hand.

A feral grin on her face, she grasped the man's fragile ear lobe in a firm hold and yanked. Using the momentum of his yelping fall, she barreled the man cleanly over her shoulder. His sudden weight neatly knocked over the three suits ahead of her.

Many turned and gaped at the sprawling pile. The man she had thrown flailed on top, and eyed her owlishly, face painted with disbelief.

"When you are with a lady, sir. Be a gentleman." She said with venom.

Head held high, she hurried along, knowing well that she didn't have much time left to complete her errand. With some satisfaction, she saw a few of the suited people part before her.

Moments later, she heard the shrill whistles of approaching policemen echoing off the concrete. She ducked her head and glanced around. The sound distorted just enough that her ears failed to find the source. Her eyes scanned the crowd for anything blue. Anything flashy amonst the grey clad bodies.

Up at the pedestrian bridge, three men in blue struggled with man in gray. She watched as one policeman swung a short black stick over his head.

She winced as a sickening thunk cut through the general din.

The gray suited man limply slumped over, and she thought she recognised him as the man she had thrown to the ground.

The three in blue then grappled the man's elbows into a painful looking pose behind his back, and shoved him along. She had seen such poses many times.

No men in blue approached her, and she heard no more shrill whistles. She supposed that by now, she was an anonomous face in the crowd.

She turned away and forced her shoulders to relax as she walked, reasoning that she was five bodies in, and well past the violence she had so smoothly performed.

At the curb, a surge of bodies at her back jarred her towards the trains lumbering through. She held her ground, relentlessly digging her nails into some poor soul's fabric covered arms.

The last sluggish metal box trudged by, and in the hush of its passing, she saw the building she was seeking.

Just across the way, a shabby looking little hut was nestled between two massively imposing steel and glass office buildings. It had brightly painted wooden shingles covering its quaint narrow pitched roof, and a simple round wooden sign hung upon chains from a post at the apex. The strange image carved upon it looked to be a sort of stylized duck-beaver hybrid, and the words along the edge declared:

"The Nuclear Platypus Coffee House."

She gazed at the line of people that began at the painted wood of the front door and stretched to vanish behind pristine glass walls around the corner a block futher down.

She sighed.

As she had expected for this time of day, the line was long. Very long. She made her way over to the end, folded her arms. Impatiently, she waited for brown ambrosa.

---ooo---

Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Pocketful of radiation.. Continued..

Friday, March 4, 2011

Pocketful of radiation, cont..

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Beast collector..

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

pocketful of radiation, continued...

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Pocketful of radiation..continued

The second eBook is out!

Llothcat's Fictional Portal by Debra Colvin (07/02/11)

And don't forget your copy of the first volume!!

Llothcat's Fictional Portal by Debra Colvin (04/08/11)

Now Available exclusively at Amazon in the Kindle store. You don't need to buy the Kindle device to enjoy these stories, as you can simply download the reader program to any pc.

But wait, there's more.!

plotroach has done the same.. check out her blog for details at http://plotroach.blogspot.com/

---ooo--

It all began with a new year's resolution: to write something, a fictional story of some sort, every day for one measley hour out of the 24. I began this blog to keep myself motivated, formed a writing group with plotroach to encourage myself, and so far, I'm happy with what I've managed to do.

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