Post by Minnowfin on Apr 4, 2013 9:52:50 GMT -6
[200+ words per post (and at least try to make a good post). Yeah, that's right peeps. Let's get some literacy in here.]
Bright sunlight, streaming like liquid silk through the cracks in the nursery wall, bathes me in a golden cloak. Dust motes, illuminated with a fiery light, eddy around me in endless circles, dancing wildly in the gentle spring breeze. My narrowed blue eyes follow an aimlessly wandering bumble bee, its bright acacia-yellow stripes flashing vividly beneath sequined wings. The Earth seems alive after the recent rains, humming with vibrant hues of green and clay-brown. My lips turn upward, and a smile begins to crease my tabby muzzle.
My grin vanishes abruptly. Everything is perfect — the grass, the trees, the cloudless sky. Even the larks, swooping merrily through the brisk air, seem flawless. Everything is perfect — but me.
Boredom stalks me through my happy, 'care-free' kit days, following on silent paws my every move. Why should I play? Moss-ball, Clan — all kit games. For babies. I'm not a baby anymore. Sure, technically I'm still considered a kit (still three more agonizing moons until I receive my ceremony and a mentor) but internally, I've finished this stage and am ready for the next. I'm a fast-paced cat.
I build a mental barrier of thistles and thorns between me and the ever-present monotony of kit life. Still, monotone whispers seep through cracks and fissures, weak spots in my wall, like sunlight through the nursery dome.
'I have to break the pattern,' I decide. Do something different than my normal routine: Wake up, bug other kits, hang out with Redkit, maybe my other buds, bug other kits, go to sleep. I sigh. I guess that means not bugging other kits. Maybe being friendly. Well, here goes.
I suck in my breath and call out, "Yo. Anyone awake?"
