into the cave

Joseph walked into the cave, squinting and blinking his eyelids as he adjusted to the darkness. A sweet, musky smell hung in the air, revealing the depth of the cave. Joseph knew he should have thought to bring a flashlight with him as he rushed out of the house that morning, but he hadn’t thought of it at the time. Now, he stumbled through the darkness, tripping on roots and rocks that littered the ground. He shivered as he pressed on, further and further into the blackness.

cave opening by Susan Rudat

cave opening by Susan Rudat

She couldn’t have gotten very far… he thought. He found her note early that morning, laying atop the kitchen counter like a breakfast pasty: folded and crisp, waiting for him. Joseph almost missed it, too, in his pre-caffeinated morning state. He held it up to the light, deciphering her messy handwriting:


I’m leaving for the cave without you. I need to find a way out of this mess, alone.


Joseph crumpled the note in his hand and leaned forward until his forehead rested against the cabinets. He tried to stay calm, tried to take long, deep breaths to slow his heart rate down despite his building anger.

This is bullshit. He slammed his fist into the cabinet door, splintering the wood. They were supposed to be a team. She was the one who had first suggested the partnership. Why would she attempt the capture without him?

Joseph dressed as quickly as he could while he tried to work out her reasoning.

To be continued

I promise to keep this going as soon as I can!

trapped in glass

He said “My name is Jimmy.”

She said “I’m not sure what you expected, Jimmy.”

He looked down at his tennis shoes, then pulled a book from his worn backpack and sat down on the tile. He rested the book in his lap, thumbing through the first few pages.

Bell could hear the pages rustling against each other. She stayed standing, watching him press the pages between his fingers. She wondered if he really planned to stay there all night, like he said he would.

Jimmy looked up as if on cue, smiling in a way that made the corners of his eyes press together in tiny, crows-feet shapes. He started from the title page.

“Antony and Cleopatra, by William Shakespeare.”

Bell wrinkled her nose. “Wait, that’s not a love story. It’s a tragedy.”

“I know,” he was still smiling, “but the ending doesn’t matter. It only matters how much they loved each other.”

Bell smiled from behind the glass. She liked him. And she liked that he didn’t mind the partition.

“I don’t mind the partition.” Jimmy said.

Bell leaned her forehead against the glass. And the two of them watched each other as their eyes twinkled in the light.

Just a bit of dialogue that’s been rolling around in my head all day. Something about glass and cages and persistent love…

mugsy’s move

Read the full story (which was inspired by two cats,  four friends, and a lot of love) by clicking on the image below (don’t worry, it’s only a 101 word long story, I promise!)

Mugsy’s Move

Mugsy pushed his rook forward, letting his paw drift across the chess board. He flicked his tail, waiting for her move. Their human was in the next room, noisily cleaning the litter box. Hatchie sighed.

“They’re so loud…” she muttered. Her whiskers twitched as she captured Mugsy’s knight.

“I can’t stand it anymore, Mugsy. I’m […continue reading at …]

sneak a peak

Prompt Photo

Today I came across a really cool photo prompt that inspired me to write (yeah, who would have thought, right, that a photo prompt for writing would actually inspire me to write?! go figure…)

I hope you enjoy this excerpt. If you guys like it, I’ll keep posting more of the story later this week, but for now, this is all you get, ya punks!

Nova stood on the edge of the lake, looking out at the trees that lined the shore. Without leaves, they looked like giant, withering skeletons, bent and swaying against the breeze. The water lapped softly near Nova’s feet, reaching out like a tongue to lick at her tennis shoes. She shivered inside her woolen sweater and gingerly stepped back from the icy waters. The winters in Portland weren’t severe, but ever since the Sophie died, Nova was never warm, always shivering. Continue reading