Nothing but Dust- open

[spot]

I'll keep my problems to myself..

---

A quiet road was laid down in the golden countryside, hardly used except for the odd farmer that passed through. Every so often another cat would be dumped onto the road here by their 'loving owners' before the metal machine would drive away, leaving the cat to fend for itself in a world it barely knew. At first, it was confusing- Why are we here? Why must I go?, before the adrenaline rushes in your veins when you see the car drive away, and you take off after it, ignoring your complaining muscles as they push you and your paw pads as they are shredded from running over sharp rocks. Branches of trees whip in your face, but you know inside of you that you'll never be able to catch up to it. Sadly, you return to where you were first abandoned and try to wipe the tears away. This restless cycle repeats and repeats without an end. Everything peaceful has evil intentions.
A silver she-cat watched the road absent-mindedly, staring at the cracks as if she was memorizing it. Small weeds grew out here and there, little pieces of life trying to push through the cobblestone. Dust had settled in a thin layer, showing the tracks of a young doe and buck traveling together, the hopping steps of a rabbit and its kin, miniature tracks of birds. And, right in the middle, heading towards the horizon, were the tracks of a sprinting cat. Her tracks. Only a couple of days ago had her owners abandoned her because the young human kit had never returned from the smashed metal machine. She had been in that crash, and still carried the stomach scars from the invisible walls that kept you from the outside world.
The femme's pelt was ragged and coarse, unlike the pristine smoothness in which she normally tried to keep it. Her ribs slightly showed through her pelt, a sign of hunger. It wasn't that she couldn't take care of herself- she had been doing that for many years- but it was the realization that the owners were never to return that kept her from caring for herself. Instead, she hadn't moved from her spot for the past while other than to do her duties. Her insides were hollow and hope-deprived, as she believed that there was no more hope left in this world. The quietness was somewhat a comfort to her- she had been used to it when separated from her kin at an early age and forced to live outside. Other than that, there was no other comfort. She had no one to turn to, no one to count on, no one to rest her spinning cranium on their soft shoulder. There was nothing left for her, nothing that considered her a somebody. Sighing, the she-cat rested her head on her paws and closed her golden optics in a hope that sleep would come knocking at her door. Thankfully, it came, and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the first one in two days.

---

Word Count- 506
Muse- Medium-High
Comments- Not one of my best posts, but not one of my worst, either.

[alcanderblackpaw]

The black and white tom walked through the woods, then exited to the road. He hadn't ever been here before - his old woner's house had been on the other side of this place. And he had never been in a car before, so he had no idea what a road was. He placed his paw tenderly on the stone road, looking at the rocks beneath his paws. They looked strange, as if they had been put here by someone.

"It's called a road, Al."

Alcander was startled by his father's voice, but settled his hackles down. "You know, you shouldn't just talk to me all of a sudden like that," he growled, a mumble hardly audible. He looked up at the leaves. The green masks were gone, showing the true colors - yellow, red, orange. Beauitful colors he was glad he could see. He imagined what the birds sounded like. How he wished he could really hear them, instead of just pretending.

"You do know that this is where all the kitty-pets are dropped off when their owners don't want them anywhere, right?"

Alcander looked up, as if to search for his father. He sounded so real, as though he was right there. "No, I didn't," he mumbled. He couldn't talk any louder, he tried, but he couldn't. He couldn't even hear himself speak. He was completely shut off from all noises except his father's hissing voice that sent chills up and down his spine. Thank goodness he knew how to read lips. Otherwise he would be cut off from everything. And thank goodness he could still feel. He could still feel the wind against his face and the snow on his back, the sun warming up his fur. Life wouldn't be worth living if he didn't have these things.

Most of the time with a fault, there is an increased quality in your body. That is what happened with Alcander. He could see unusually well. Like a hawk. And he could feel vibrations through the ground so he knew if someone was coming toward him, otherwise he would probably be dead by now. And then there would be no feeling, seeing... Loving.

Love. He hadn't felt that in a long time. He hadn't felt the breath of his sweet Clover, his mate, in such a long time he had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone, to have someone to nuzzle when he needed comfort. It was so hard to live without love, without having someone there to lean on.

"Just forget about her, Alcander." His father could read his thoughts like a book. He was his thoughts. He lived in his mind, fed on his thoughts, and drank in his hate. He was like a demon in his head, though he wasn't a demon. He was his father, his flesh and blood, coming back to haunt him because he wasn't his identical. Such stupidity made Alcander burn with wrath, only to hear his father's chuckle.

"That's right, get angry. I love it when you get angry."

Alcander could see that smirk that his father wore whenever he could see him in his mind. He could hear the hiss, the evil hiss that made that chill run through his body. And then he saw Clover.

"Clover!" Alcander gasped, running down the road. There she was. Alcander blinked, as if to make sure the image was truly there. And then, the black coat fell from the tom's sight, showing that his mirage was a rock on the side of the road. Where was his dear Clover?

Dead... And his father was playing tricks on him. She would never be back. never, ever, ever. And he could never bring her back. She was gone. All because of his stupid father that hated his family. Hated him. Hated Alcander. And he was tired of it.

But he could do nothing to help himself. His thoughts were comsumed by his father. He could never have them back. They were gone, replaced with his bastard of a father, who had killed his mate and his mother. And they were both gone.

Then Alcander killed his father. And his father came to haunt him. Alcander sighed. He had given what his father deserved, but in the end, he had his father in his mind forever. That was ironic.

And now, Alcander was walking on this road to nowhere. Where the heck did it go? Where was everyone, he thought there were cats all over here. Then he saw someone.

A tabby in the road. Okay, that was better. He had thought he had went blind or something. He blinked a few times to make sure the fea was real, and then he walked up to her, no matter how much his father tried to bring him back to the forest.

"Hi." Alcander smiled, though it was an un-used smile. His lips curled, though it wasn't meant to look threatening. His father had made him look like that, trying to scare the fea away. Well Alcander wouldn;t let that happen.

Alcander and his father played a game. They would try to do things to make each other angry. So far, Alcander was winning. He hoped he would stay winning. Or something horrible would happen.

[spot]

Clover!

The femme looked up. Sure, her name wasn't Clover, but she hadn't seen hide nor hair of any cat since she first arrived. At first, Marigold thought it was just her mind playing the same tricks on her. Her mind was getting to her, and the little voices that had driven out her hope were now trying to drive out her soul. That's the problem with living a seperated life- with no one to talk to your problems grow and spread through your thoughts, your actions, your being.
But, after a quick search, her gilded optics did spot another cat. The splotched cat dashed over towards the direction of the femme that was called Clover. Marigold craned her neck to spot the other she-cat, but was confused. This cat was running towards a rock? And she thought that she was going delirious. She blinked a few times but indeed, that tom did believe that the rock was a cat. It reminded her of one of her siblings, Stripes.

Stripes had been born a normal cat. Sadly, after being sprayed by the dish cleaner that sat on the counter, Stripes had not been able to see. Before her owners could call the vet and restrain her she had started to scratch at her eyes, causing them to be permanently lost. For a couple days she ran around, bumping into everything and yowling about random thoughts that came to her mind. She had turned into a complete lunatic. The next week, she hopped into the metal machine and never returned. Mother said that she was given a needle and she went into a sleep in which she never woke up. Why have my thoughts carried to Stripes? There are certainly many crazy cats in this world.. Looking close, the femme saw the soft blue orbs of the cat. Stripes had had blue eyes, but hers were always sharp and angry. Maybe this was why it reminded her of it. Changing her attention away from her kin, she instead concentrated on the cat.

The black and white tom stopped and looked confused. It was obvious that he had just noticed that it wasn't a cat after all. Is this how I reacted when I was dropped off? The thought came into her mind, but she shook it off. She wasn't that crazy. Was she?... before she had to answer herself the cat came up to her. Marigold went into secret defense mode, ready to spring up at any minute if needed, but kept her posture and orbs relaxed. She wasn't much of a 'people-person'.

Hi.

The tom flashed a white smile, confusing Marigold. Why would anyone want to talk to a piece of scum like her? His lips curled slightly, but the femme ignored it. He was obviously no threat. Relaxing somewhat, she firmly nodded.

Hi.

She said in an unenthusiastic tone. She wasn't a cat who liked talking to complete strangers, including ones who were on the crazy side. Sighing, she shot a quick glance at the road before awaiting the cat to say something else.

---

Word Count- 515
Muse- Medium-High
Comments- Don't worry. Marigold thinks everyone is crazy, and even somewhat herself. She's used to 'weird' cats.

[alcanderblackpaw]

"She doesn't like you. Just leave her alone. We have to go find Raven, remember?"

"When did you start caring about Raven?" Alcander whispered to his father, his eyes closed, his head turned toward the ground. He looked at the femme, a smile cracking his lips. He tried to think of a way to explain why he seemed to be talking to himself, but there was no "non-wierd" way of putting it. He was... Possessed, it seemed. But the case was actually he had a voice in his head, sometimes even more than one, on special occasions or wierd days where he had no one to talk to but himself.

When he did get around other "real" cats, he didn't know what to say. He was a very reclusive tom who didn't care much about introductions or accquainted with someone who didn't know what the heck he was talking about. He got along best with himself, no one around. At least, most of the time... When his father was in a good mood.

"Which never happens," his father said, reading his thoughts like a page ina book. It was as if every word he thought was etched into stone for his father to read... Or perhaps he could hear them. Alcander didn't know. All he knew was that he had a crazy tom in his head who had taken control of his thoughts. Nothing serious... Anymore, at least. When he had first realized he had someone in his head, he thought about killing himself. Then he decided not to just because killing himself wasn't very appealing.

Good thing he didn't. Then he wouldn't have had all the good times... Not that there were many, though. The most recent "good" time he had had was talking to those two toms at the river, and that was a heck of a long time ago.

Alcander looked up at the femme. She was saying something, Alcander could see the word. "Hi," she said. Alcander let his smile break his lips again.

"Don't do that, Alcander. Want the image?"

The image of his mother writhing on the asphalt road of an alley quickly pulled the smile of Alcander's face. He closed his eyes, only making the image brighter.

"Good boy. We don't want any smiling, do we?" Alcander could see his father, with that smirk... He hated that smirk.

[spot]

The tom seemed to notice that she had spoken and smiled, but it quickly vanished. It seemed like something that troubled him was on his mind, but Marigold wasn't one for comforting. Especially when she herself didn't know what the problem was. Standing up, she cleared her voice.

Hey, are you alright?

Looking at the tom, it appeared that he didn't hear her. His ears didn't swivel to the noise of her voice, but instead rested in the same place. Is he deaf? The thought hit her hard. It made some sense that he was, but also, it didn't make sense. How could he understand her if he couldn't hear her? Some cats were smarter than she could think of...

A small tweet came from close by, and the femme's radars swiveled. A plump chickadee, a rare sight, sat in a tree pecking out small insects. Her stomach growled menacingly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a couple of days. Quietly standing up, she walked over towards the tree, knowing that the cat might not even notice that she had left. Stalking quietly, she unsheathed her shining claws and silently climbed up the tree. Walking quietly across the thick and knarled branches, she crept closer to her prize.
The wind changed, and her scent was carried towards the chickadee. The bird cried out in alarm and took of into the sky. Cursing, the femme leaped after it in a frantic attempt, and was successful. Biting down hard, Marigold was greeted with the fresh taste of blood on her sandpaper tongue. One last squack filled the air before it hung limp in her jaw and she swiftly reached the ground. Without a moment's hesitation she hugrily tore into the bird, but with some grace from her mother's teachings. Food had never tasted so good.

---

Word Count- 301
Muse- Tired.
Comments- -yawns- It's too late for me to think properly. Hope that this is alright.

[alcanderblackpaw]

all around me are familiar places

Even though the fea spoke loudly, Alcander could not hear her utter the words. He went on with talking to his father.

"I hate you..." He said it a little louder than he should've. He looked up at the place where the fea was. She was gone.

"See what you do? She's--" Then Alcander looked into the forest. There she was, hunting. Something Alcander should be doing. He could count his ribs, and though he couldn't hear his stomach rumbling, his body shook with the hungry grumble. He needed food. But where would he get food? Alcander looked in the tall grass on the side of the road.

The browning grass rustled, Alcander could see it, and then a pheasant's tail could be seen. Alcander closed his eyes, speaking to his father.

"Don't throw any tricks, okay?" Alcander said it in a hiss, an identical hiss to his father's. His own voice sent shivvers up his back.

"All right," said his father. The image of the black cat dissapeared from Alcander's mind, and he went toward the tall grass, holding his breath. He looked down at his feet, making sure there were no snakes to bite his legs (he wouldn't be able to hear them, so better safe than sorry) and he went on. He let out his breath, opened his mouth, and drank in the smell. Such a appetizing smell, Alcander needed to get it.

He crept slowly, making sure he didn't make a large rustle. He would have to move with the wind. That way his steps would sound like the wind rustling the grass. Alcander wasn't stupid.

He felt the wind brush against his back, so he took a few large steps. He lowered his head, and saw the white breast of the bird, who was lying as still as it possibly could apart from breathing. It was frightened. Now he knew how his father felt when he was frightened. It gave you something to take advantage of, to twist to your own benefit.

This was just a bird, though, so he didn't feel bad about killing it. If he even killed it. He felt the wind again, this time coming from the right side. He held his breath, then took the familiar large steps, bringing him right in a pounces reach. He coiled his haunches, let his breath out, and sprang. The sprang brought him right on top of the bird, a huge mass of feathers.

The plumage flew through the small area. Alcander could imaging the squaking flury that came from the bird's larynx. A bite on the neck and then...

Still. The bird was still, Alcander had food, and he was happy. He picked up the bird and brought it to the area right beside the road, where the grass and the first few rocks met. He bit into the bird's chest, getting a mouth full of feathers. He spit them out, then went in to the clear space, no feathers in sight. He was given the taste of blood, meat, and no more hunger. He kept eating, and when he got to the bone, he made sure it was perfectly clean before leaving it and walking to the other side of the road.

Now, what to do... The fea was still eating her chickadee, or at least cleaning it. And he was done with his. He sighed. He had nothing better to do than to tell his father to come back. He could always talk to him. Just as he was going to say it, he came.

"Have a nice meal? You sure seemed to enjoy it," he hissed. Alcander could hear pure jealousy and covetousness in the remark.

"If you didn't kill Clover you could still be eating," Alcander mused, cleaning his white chest.

"You are a smart boy..." Alcander could hear his father letting out his breath as he sat in his mind.

Maybe he shouldn't have called him out... Now he would have to talk to him... He just hoped the fea would stop eating soon and come over. He needed a real cat to talk to. Not just someone in his mind who was sick minded and a murderer. No, a nice cat who would let him tell his story to, to let him get it all out. Such a cat was hard to find in the world. But she had to be somewhere.

Clover was that someone. And now she was gone. Was there another Clover for Alcander?

worn out places,
worn out faces

[spot]

Nothing gold can stay... All thoughout her meal, the silver femme remembered her mother's favorite poem. It was short and sweet, but also held many meanings. She thought about it while tearing the through the bird's soft skin for the warm and juicy prize inside.

Ever since she was a little kit, she had known the poem by heart, but the meanings were sometimes unclear. The piece seemed to reflect so many things about life. Her mind carried her back, far back to her kithood. The sky was as black as a raven's feather, but no stars could be seen in the night sky for the yellow street lamps casting their gilded glow on the grey and dull pavement. The moon, too, was away, hidden by the night's black cloak. Near the road was a little white house. A cobblestone path snaked towards the white door, where a dusty old mat was placed. In big scrawling letters were the words "Home Sweet Home". A doorbell was to the left, and when pressed, alerted the occupants of the house with a quiet chiming sound. Below the windows were flower boxes filled with yellow and pink tulips, and below that, large circular rosebushes in full bloom. The house was silent- the lights were off, the windows closed, the door shut and locked. Inside, 9 beings were sleeping. Six cats, five in which were kittens, and three humans. In the kitchen, one small mouse scuttled across the tiled floor, its claws clicking loudly. A miniature kitten stirred, only about 4 months or so, when she heard it. A gilded eye flicked open and shined in the dim light. To a human, it would be hard to see or hear any of it. But she was more than that. She was a cat- the ferocious night hunter, known for her sight. She could see as if the sun was still shining in the sky. Silently, hoping not to wake up the other small lumps, she crept towards the mouse, hoping for a little midnight snack. Her claws stayed sheathed, as the tile would give her away too much if they weren't. Inch by inch, she neared the prize. The mouse didn't even seem to notice, but instead sweep the floor like a vacuum, searching for any stray crumb. The kitten pushed her strength into her hind legs, and leaped. In mid-air, a paw was outstretched, and she tumbled into it in mid-air. The mouse, hearing the sound, squeaked and dashed away, back to its mouse hole. The kitten turned, and saw her mother looking down at her.

Mama! I was so close!

There there, sweetie. We have to be careful on how much we hunt. If we aren't, there won't be enough left for us.

[/i]

But mama!

But nothing. Come come, it's time for little kittens like you to go to bed.

The little kitten yawned. She indeed was tired, especially after all of the adrenaline from the hunt had vanished. Quietly but still a bit clumsily, as she was still a kit, she padded after her mother and settled down beside her. Her mother took a large drink from the bowl of water beside her before drawing the kit closer with her tail. This was a sure sign that her mother would tell her a poem, so the little kitten quieted down and stared at her mother with large golden eyes.

Very well. I'll tell you a poem, but only if you close your eyes.[/i]

The little kitten obeyed, and laid her petite head down on her even tinier paws. The lamp light shone on her pelt, making the silver spots dance. Her ears flicked up in attention, but her mother pushed them down. She knew that she needed to relax to get her prize. In the distance, she heard her mother clear her throat before starting. When she did, her lyrics were calm and peaceful, as if she was reciting a hymn.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay. [/i]

The poem was small, yet large, and in the quiet tone of her mother, she quickly fell asleep to the melodic words. The mother chuckled quietly to herself before gently drawing the kit closer and falling asleep herself. At that moment, no sounds could be heard. No cars, no insects, no birds. Everything was silent, and everything was peaceful. But nothing gold can stay. The next day would be a busy one, but in the end, it was always nice to have just that five seconds of perfect peace. If only life hadn't become so complicated...

The silver femme snapped out of her trance. Her gilded optics staring at the piece of prey, she noticed on how she had eaten it right down to the marrow inside the bone. Nothing remained but a few feathers and a couple bones, picked clean of their contents. She yawned, a habit that always occurred after she ate a large meal. She never was tired after a meal, in fact she was actually filled a bit more with energy, but habits were unbreakable. She turned, and remembered the other cat was there. Quietly, she walked towards him and sat down. She noticed on how he too had hunted, as a couple stray pheasant feathers rested in his ivory and ebony fur. His cloudy optics held many mixed emotions- pain, suffering, anguish, hate, love, longing...the list continued. Gently, she nudged the tom to wake him up from his trance and sat down a comfortable distance in front of him- not too close, but not too far. Her flag wavered slightly in a silent hello as she tried to break the ice.

So....hmm...I've got an idea. It would be alot easier if we maybe knew a bit about each other, that way it's not so...uncomfortable..,to talk to each other. We'll play a 'game' as you would call it. You can ask me a question, and I'll answer it. Then, I'll ask you a question. Simple enough?

She wasn't the best when it came to meeting new cats, so she secretly hoped that this would work. This cat looked like he had alot on his mind, and maybe she could help to sort it out. Maybe he can give me a hand as well... She coughed tensely.

What's your name?

They had to start somewhere, and she didn't want to have to call this cat "you" forever. That had happened before, back when she was a kit. She remembered the ginger cat that lived next door for a month, but it was most certainly hard to communicate with another cat when you didn't know her name. It was an opportunity for a friend, but she missed it. And all because she didn't ask what their name was. In a time like this, it was important that she had all the friends that she could get. Maybe even...no. She'd never had anyone who would, and was able to, love her that much. Someone who kept her up at night, someone who cared for her as she cared for him. But love was a complicated game, and never lasted too long. Nothing gold can stay... It made her think. Did my mother tell me that poem as a bedtime story, or as a warning?...

---

Word Count- 1230.
Muse- Normal, actually XD
Comments- This has to be one of my longest posts in a long time. I'm really proud of myself.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[alcanderblackpaw]

Alcander looked at the fea. She said something. A question. His name. He felt his father trying to keep his mouth shut. He hated it when Alcander spoke his name. Maybe because he hated him for not looking like him, not being named after him.

"M-my name is A-Alc-cander Bl-Black-p-paw."

Alcander whispered, "Ha-ha." His face beamed, a smile parting his lips. It felt so good to overcome his father. He tried so hard to keep him from giving out his past, like with Raven. Alcander thought she needed to know, but obviously, his father didn't. He tried to clench Alcander's jaws shut, but couldn't. Alcander was strong, as his name described.

"What is yours?" the splotch asked, looking at the fea through his icy blue eyes. She had interesting eyes, too. Such a beautiful gold. "You have very beautiful eyes." He smiled. He felt the force of his father trying to force that image of his mother, writhing on the floor in that heart-wrenching position, but Alcander, the strong, overcame.

[[sorry for the painfully short post. i don't have much muse for al at all today.]]

[spot]

The splotched cat in front of him answered her question, stating that his name was Alcander, but stuttering slightly in the process. Alcander was a nice name- strong, but not a boasting name such as Hunter or Swift. It suited him and his personality quite well. The stuttering caught her ;was it nervousness, or was he just not used to talking to other cats? The silver femme shrugged the thought aside and instead fixed her gaze on his.

You have very beautiful eyes.

[/i]

The tom said and smiled. She smiled back, but inside found it quite awkward to have been given a compliment. She had always been told of her imperfections, what made her different; her too tiny paws, her too large head, her eye color. Yet, here was one cat who believed that she wasn't as imperfect as she had been to the strict humans at the cat shows. She, in return, stared at his frosty optics. They were a brilliant shade of blue, strong but not too strong, weak but not too weak. They forever shined in the light, standing out from his pelt.

Thanks. Yours are nice too.

She stated and smiled. Then, drawing her tail over her paws, the silver she-cat thought of another question. Well, she knew this cat's name, but nothing else. What else could she ask that didn't stretch into personal? One simple question came into her clouded mind.

So, do you live around here, or did you get dropped off in one of those cursed metal machines?

She hoped that this didn't stretch too far into personal, but she couldn't take it back now if she tried. Her gaze ran down his snowy and ivory pelt and studied the patterns on the coat before changing her gaze, embarrassed. Breaking the silence, she stated more to herself than to Alcander

Beautiful day, hmm?

Whether she received an answer, it didn't matter. Awkward silences were always, well...awkward. And awkwardness was just what she didn't need right now.

[[That's alright. I'll try to make posts that you can reply alot in. Everyone has their museless days :3 ]]
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

Mod's Edit on 27th December: This thread is being locked and archived due to inactivity. We'll assume that the following happened:
Marigold and Alcander happily chatted for a while, before heading off in different directions to try and find food.