Cat Photography
(or Golden Skies)
(or Dream Time)

1.
It was starting to change into that time of year, when the trees dripped leaves of crimson and gold, and the wind changed its voice from a whisper to a howl. Clouds like blankets covered the sky and tucked the moon in to say goodnight. The moon yawned and closed its yellow eyes, ready for whatever dream may come to it in sleep. Its light wasn't needed anymore; replaced by the electric hum and glow of street lights, it had become obsolete. Isabel sat on her front porch, smoking a cigarette and watching the stray cats on her block strut past, looking for whatever scraps of food irresponsible (most likely drunk) college kids left littered on the ground. The night was as still and silent as a photograph, except for the occasional shadowy outline of the strays skulking through streets.

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Cat Photography
(or Golden Skies)
(or Dream Time)

1.
It was starting to change into that time of year, when the trees dripped leaves of crimson and gold, and the wind changed its voice from a whisper to a howl. Clouds like blankets covered the sky and tucked the moon in to say goodnight. The moon yawned and closed its yellow eyes, ready for whatever dream may come to it in sleep. Its light wasn't needed anymore; replaced by the electric hum and glow of street lights, it had become obsolete. Isabel sat on her front porch, smoking a cigarette and watching the stray cats on her block strut past, looking for whatever scraps of food irresponsible (most likely drunk) college kids left littered on the ground. The night was as still and silent as a photograph, except for the occasional shadowy outline of the strays skulking through streets.

next>