[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on DeAnna's sub

[Leonard Tuchyner]

DeAnna sub for Dec 22

This is a charming story. 

It is  uplifting and well written. 

As the reader I am transported tothe humble home of  Becca 

and her  mother. 

To Kit Cat’s  birthing environment 

and the Queen of cats holdingcouncil. 

It answered the question of whereall those scarlet ribbons came from. 

I think I vaguely rememver yourpresenting this story, or one like it before.

 

1,064 words

 

ScarletRibbons

Thereal story

ByDeAnna Quietwater Noriega

 

Manyyears ago, when I was a kitten living my first life. My mother resided in analley behind a dumpster. There were three of us. My brother was an orangestriped tiger. My mother was a midnight black child of the streets. I tookafter her with the addition of a white  vest and white forepaws. 

 

Latethat fall, as the nights were growing cold, mother told me it was time for meto move out on my own. I had learned to hunt and no longer needed her milk tosurvive. I was hard pressed to keep body and soul together. All of the bestlocales were claimed by larger unfriendly cats. 

 

Iwandered further each day, becoming weaker with hunger. 

 

Isought shelter in some bushes next to the rickety steps of a small rundownhouse, near the edge of town. When a girl with hair as black as my coat andlarge blue eyes came down those steps, she looked in my direction. Even thoughI was crouched and kept very still she spotted me. Her face broke into a smileso sunny that it made me feel warm all over. Her voice was soft and gentle.

 

               “You look cold and hungry KitKat. Come here and I will find you something toeat. Mama has gone to work, and then she will go to night school. You can comein for a while and get warm.”

Thegirl found me a small bowl and filled it with some leftover beef stew. Sheplaced a cup with a missing handle full of cool water beside the bowl. After Ipolished the bowl clean of any trace of food, she placed a small pillow on thesill of a sunny window to make me comfortable for a nap. Then she gathered herbooks and hurried off to school. Late in the afternoon, she returned to heatthe rest of the stew and mixed some biscuit dough. Although Becca was still achild, she knew how to prepare simple meals. Her mother Ivy came home brieflyto share this plain fare before rushing off to night school. 

Beccalifted the pan of golden-brown biscuits from the oven and Ivy ladled the stewinto bowls. I was lying quietly on my cushion in the window. Ivy sat down toeat. Becca lifted me and placed me gently in her mother’s lap.

 

“Look mama, see how thin she is? I am calling her KitKat,like the candy bar because she is so sweet. I know we don’t have the money forChristmas presents, but if we keep her, she can be our gift to each other. Ivylooked into Becca’s pleading eyes. Her work worn hand stroked my soft fur. Thatis how I joined Becca and her mother, becoming a part of their family. 

 

Timeflew by and a year later, Christmas was again approaching. There was no moneyfor pretty packages for them. Taking me in meant some sacrifices in an alreadytight budget. If they had not added me to their family, I probably would havehad a short hungry first life. 

Idid my best to help where I could, catching mice, curling up on Becca’s feet tokeep them warm while she did homework at the kitchen table. I waited up forIvy, and sang a cheerful chirrup to welcome her home each night. I kept Beccacompany while her mother rushed from job to school with only a half hour breakto snatch dinner from cans heated on the stove by Becca. I played silly gamesto make them smile. I followed Ivy when she came from her night school classesto peek in to check on Becca. That was when we heard the end of her bedtimeprayer. 

 

“Forme, some scarlet ribbons for my hair.” 

 

WhenIvy had tiptoed back to the kitchen, I sat on her lap while she tried to getquiet in her heart so she could sleep. Later, when I made my rounds to be suremy people were sleeping, I found Becca breathing softly tucked snugly in herbed. Ivy wasn’t doing as well. Her pillow was damp with tears. I curled againsther side and purred her to sleep. 

 

I knew that Becca’s request wasimpossible. There was no way Ivy could get those ribbons. I slipped out walkingthrough the wall. Cats can do things like that if they truly must. I hurriedacross town. Only Tasha, queen of cats might be able to help. What price wouldshe accept in payment? 

 

I crept into the old barn where sheheld court on Christmas Eve. Hundreds of cats gathered there to sing herpraises. I waited until the time for supplications came. I stepped forth andmade my request for scarlet ribbons for Becca’s hair. 

Tasha’sgreen eyes glared down at me. 

 

“What will you give for thoseribbons?” she growled. 

 

I was the least of her kind, a smallblack cat born in an alley of no exotic breeding or importance. I had only onething I could give. 

 

“Oh great queen, I offer one of mynine lives. May you live one life beyond your allotted number and I one less.” 

 

The trade was made and her minionswere sent out to search the town for lengths of scarlet ribbon. Velvet bowsdisappeared from wrapped gifts beneath Christmas trees. Satin ribbons weretaken from door wreaths. Sewing rooms were searched for ribbons left fromholiday dressmaking. 

 

Nearing the end of my 8thlife I have no regrets. The look of amazement on Ivy’s face and the trustingjoy on Becca’s when she woke to find her prayer had been answered was worth thesacrifice. 

 

I lived a long and happy first life. I was there when Ivy finished school and got a better job. I watched Becca growto become a beautiful young woman, marry and have children of her own. As Iapproach the end of my 8th and final life, I am content. I have beena good and loving cat and brought comfort and joy to all of my subsequent humanfamilies. Who is to say that the Creator of all life didn’t use one smallhumble cat to answer the prayers of a good child. 

 

 




 
 
Leonard I. Tuchyner, Author
 
https://www.dldbooks.com/tuchyner/

 
  
 
 

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