Armed with Feathers

                                   Armed With Feathers
                                                
                                               By Trudy A. Martinez
  
Up I came pillow in hand.  A resounding agitation arouse not only me but also my anger.  With a fury, I hurled the pillow in the direction of its origination.  Kit knows not to scratch my chair; that cat knows the racket her nails make, protruding inward, pulling outward, creates a reverberating, irritating, and displeasing noise that awakes not only me but also a demon who seeks her out.
 
“It’s only 4:00 A.M..” I scream.  “Leave me alone, I want to sleep.”  And then I exclaim with dramatic emphasis, shaking a finger at her while I speak.  “Don’t you dare touch that chair again with your nails!” 
 
Her body stretches out and moves upward while her nails position themselves in the chair ready to scratch again.   When the sound of my angry voice reaches her ears, she stops and glares at me, testing my patience. 
 
I stare back.  She releases her nails from the upholstery and slowly moves away in defeat.  “Now get out of here!” I exclaim as I hurl another pillow.
 
Advertisements

About gramatrudy

BA degree in English with a single subject certification 1994 I enjoy writing, art (all forms), quilting, sewing, embroidery, photography (still and video), and most of all, my grandchildren.
This entry was posted in Animals, Jounal entry, short story and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Armed with Feathers

  1. Pingback: Armed with Feathers | Grama's space bubble

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s