Flash writing contest!
In 25 words or fewer, tell us what is going on here!
No prompt words.
One entry per person!
Post your entry in the comments column here.
Prize will be a book of some kind (unless you want a cat!)
Contest opens NOW.
Contest closes at 7pm Sunday 1/8/17.
Results posted Monday 1/9/17.
I assume every comment is an entry unless you tell me otherwise.
The giant butterflies come out at night, spin people in cocoons.
They got Mom.
Me and Midnight are the only ones left.
"The kids disappeared through that damn wardrobe; this has to be the way into the Land of Butterflies or so help me..."
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
I was blessed to be born a cat, but cursed having OCD, damn crooked pictures.
Minerva Mcgonagall demonstrated to Professor Longbottom how transfiguration could help with the renovations for his new office. Crooked? Nothing a cat's touch can't fix.
I can’t believe they took down the picture of me and put this shit up instead.
As the cat burglar checked behind every frame for the wall safe, he thought, once again, how opposable thumbs could have improved his profit margin.
All Black-cat Can Do, Even From Great Heights, Is Jump.
Keyword, Ladder. Many New Options Perhaps.
“Quickly Run,” Said The Unafraid, Very Wise Yellow-cat,
"There. This one is straight. Now for the middle one."
If that ungrateful servant hadn't left me - ME, the Duchess of Yowl! - I wouldn't have lowered myself to such menial tasks. Oh the shame!
Wretched humans. Always throwing things behind glass for their own amusement. They can keep me in this house, but you poor buggers are coming out.
Leave without setting out food, did ya? Well, let’s see how your OCD-addled brain handles this!
John Berendt was racking his brain for a title to his new book when he noticed Midnight attacking his garden of butterfly and dragon paintings.
Only at that moment did Emperor Howl realize the gravity of his mistake.
“I saw you move. Now, quit pretending to be a wallflower. Come out and float like a butterfly so I can sting like a bee.”
Someday a cat will fly. Today is not that day, and Lovey is not that cat.
Turn around. They’re not real.
Tuh, I’m no kitten anymore. I know the butterflies are fake. See? Another bird! So long, Mom.
Dote –hang on –
We flutter, heartbeats trapped beneath glass, our original captor long dead. How the world has changed! This is only our most recent bid for freedom.
Janet mustn’t know about the raves we throw when she’s engrossed in a book. But is the picture crooked or is that the catnip talking?
"Get the level, Larry."
"The level. Get the level."
"I don't have--"
"But those paintings aren't straight."
"Hold my beer, Norma. I got this."
It's like the one where I'm holding up the tower in Pisa.
Take the pic, will ya? We gotta hang these before she gets home.
Cat man do what human couldn’t. Straight up true, butterfly.
House rules, she said.
No climbing on the drapes, she said.
I don’t believe she did.
Mention it, I mean.
The laser grid would reset in 37 seconds unleashing Dr. Schnauzer's minions. She knew the Jade Monarch was here, but which painting hid the safe?
Got the middle one exactly where I want it. Now to tilt the other pictures the same way. She'll love this!
One: Jump to window.
Two: Cut glass with claw.
Three: Eat butterflies!
Here we go...
Now to reach over and...
He's a collector. A houseful of cats. A shelfful of houses. A wallful of shelves. A falsehood of walls, wherein he keeps his Little Butterfly.
"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU!! NO...WIRE...HANGERS...!!!"
~ kitty dearest
Feline Buttonweezer finishing off the sea leg adjustment room on Carkoon while cussing out Canine Buttonweezer for eating all pictures of kale.
The argument ended when Martha proved there really wasn’t room to swing a cat without hitting one of Mary’s butterfly prints.
It was all fun and games until the clock struck midnight and the butterflies retreated to their respective paintings, leaving Noire hanging by a nail.
“Dang, Mom’s rearranging the furniture again, but does she have to do it New Year’s Eve? I guess it’s up to me to straighten the art. Sheesh.”
"You see a cat?"
"What do you think?"
"Well, what do you see?"
"What about butterflies?"
I told Gossamer they were straight, but nooooo.
Besides, DOY said the flutterbys are nonGMO and gluten free.
Give a cat a hand?
March 4, 1986. Our house.
"Dammit, Martha, it's either that cat or me!"
April 4, 1986. Divorce court.
Kuro waited until his lady was out and then jumped onto the dresser.
"There's got to be a way to let these tasty guys out!"
Who says I can’t catch a butterfly in an apartment?
Spiderman clawed up the wall and readied his paw.
Crap. Fooled by the window again.
Peter Parkour is more like it…
♫ Spidercat, Spidercat…
Does whatever a Spidercat does ♫
I don’t need no stinkin’ web…
If told you once, I've told you a thousand times, the picture looks better this way.
Officer, you've made a mistake. I was framed!
Where she went wrong:
1. Bought kitty treats in clear packaging.
2. Hung treats in plain sight.
3. Expected me to behave.
Am I climbing the wall or strolling along the floor? Or both? Ah, the observer’s paradox. Either way, I have a date with Schrodinger’s cat.
"If I can get those wings on my back, I can go anywhere. I'll eat like a queen."
IN COMING! IN COMING!
Don't worry, Janet, I'll save you.
Not the flea medicine again. Must escape!
Everybody mocked me, said Mama musta hung out with strays, cuz I sure looked funny after cocooning--tail and claws insteada wings. Who’s laughing now?
Practicing for the Olympic Catapult.
The new curator at The Met was renowned for her avant-garde display techniques. And for her claws.
“I must straighten the pictures or the two legs might notice the empty safe. Tell the Duchess I am on the way with new jewels.”
This comment isn’t an entry. It is a comment about incomplete sentences. Since we are limited to 25 words I shall be brief. I can’t
*wish those butterflies were in my stomach*
*gulp. Butterflies in my stomach!*
Post a Comment