So last night we're watching the BBC show on Netflix, The Last Kingdom. We're completely enthralled in the story, and we will grab the novel and search the history behind the story for the historical truths. That's just what we do.
The cats continue their night time ritual: in and out the back door with the screen left partially open. My choice is to put them out and keep the screen door closed. There is a reason why. And tonight that reason became clear.
While we listen to the show, engaged in the conversation of the priest with King Alfred, a shadow dashes under a table and then under the desk followed by Abby, the tabby.
"What was that?" I asked and leaned forward, following Abby's gaze under the desk and over the staircase.
Scott paused the video, jumped up and looked after Abby, who was staring down at the stairs.
I hopped up and stood at the top of the stairs.
A shadow moved slightly.
The laundry room light cast a light into the stairwell.
I could see a small creature, about the size of a kitten, moving slowly, stepping in place in a circle.
"Oh god. I hope it's not a rat," I shivered and my stomach twinged. Not that I've seen a rat around, but I'd heard stories of people up the hill releasing their pet rats into the neighborhood. I shivered again.
I kept my eyes on the creature, and my shoulders relaxed. I could see its long ears.
"It's a bunny!" I exclaimed to Scott.
"Oh geez." He sighed.
He passed me and trudged downstairs. I could hear him stomping around, shaking all the boxes of holiday wrapping and tubs of winter clothes stored in the laundry room. I heard the bedroom door open and close. But no bunny.
He ran up the stairs, calling, "Where are those cats -- either one."
He grabbed the first one that walked in through the screen door and walked Abby downstairs. "Ok. Where's the rabbit?"
Abby ran back upstairs and out the screen door, and Scott tried more banging.
I stepped downstairs.
Scott stood, holding a broom. "The poor thing is probably scared to death, and could be hiding anywhere here."
I looked around and nodded.
"I don't think it could get into the bedroom, under the door. It was as big as a kitten," I added.
Scott replied, "They are all fur; they can squish any where."
"Perhaps we could leave a trail of cat food or something up the steps?" I suggested.
"The thing is afraid of our monsters. We're going to have to lock the cats up and leave the back door open. Just not large enough for the deer to join us too."
Together we walked back up, resigned to hoping time and the quiet of the night would allow the poor, frightened bunny enough courage to hop up the stairs and out the door.
Our cats? One sits curled in a wrought iron chair, and the other stretches out on the cool concrete, both cleaning themselves on the back porch, having already forgotten their last hunt.
Later the next day...
I have placed lettuce in the laundry room, little leaves left leading up the stairs. There's been no sound, and the cats have not indicated the presence of another creature in the house. They're napping, of course.
Here's my process:
Which slice? That was easy, since we this adventure occurred Monday night.
I just learned from Kevin Hodgson that TitanPad records your revisions for playback. So, here's my process of writing the first draft, which I revised slightly and edited for the Slice above:
I hope you see that I attempt to write in active voice and use dialogue to bring the reader into the scene. I'm not a great writer, but I am trying to show, not just tell.
What's your process and slide for the week?