Catt Writes

Hi, I'm Catt! I'm an A-Level Creative Writing student from England, and I thought it would be a good idea for me to share some of my timed writing and prompt writing here! Thanks for stopping by!

[catt-writes]

Drabble (2/2/18)

In class today, we had to take one piece of paper with a plot point from four different envelopes and make a story... I got ‘A painting of a beautiful woman’, ‘a rich widow’, ‘an argument’ and also ‘a noise from the attic’. This is what I came up with:

He stood at the top of the first staircase, staring at the painting that loomed over him. Louisa’s eyes bore in to him, accusing him. He clenched his fists.

“I didn’t do it!” He cried out, his voice echoing off the varnished oak panels. “Leave me alone, I didn’t do it!”

Louisa did not reply. After a few moments of the only noise being his hitched breaths, it happened.

Creeeeeeak. Creeeeeeak.

He paled, his eyes darting upwards to the ceiling. Frozen, he stared, waiting for it to happen again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Leave me in peace!” He pleaded. He looked back to the painting, Louisa’s eyes still searching his soul. “I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill you! Please, leave me be!”

[catt-writes]

Shit I do whilst writing #1

Me: how do I write 'buff as fuck' normally?

*five mins later*

Me, screaming: Muscular!!

[cho-changmoved-deactivated20200]

au where i write something and actually finish it

[catt-writes]

Valentino

(This was a character development task that I did! We were given a name, and we had to try and introduce a character. I don’t feel like I did that well, but I liked the direction it was going in.)

As Valentino finished stacking the baked beans on isle five for the second time that evening, Pixie came up to him.

“It’s about 2am.” She told him, blinking her eyes and smiling. “It’s the end of our shift.”

“Oh.” Valentino put the last tin down, and turned it so the label faced forward.

“I was wondering…” Pixie twirled a mousy lock between her fingers as she looked the man up and down. The way his dark black hair fell from the ponytail he had to wear whilst on the floor framed his model-like jaw bone perfectly she thought, and though his tanned arms peeked out from his rolled-up sleeves, she thought she might like to see what lay further.

“Pixie, no.” Valentino glanced at her, his sapphire eyes flashing. “I don’t want to come back to your house. You’ve asked me every single day this week, and every single day the answer will be the same.”

Pixie pouted.

“Actually, I wanted to offer you a lift home.” She rolled her eyes, trying to act cool, but Valentino could see the blush of rejection climbing up her neck. “It’s late, it’s raining, and you have class tomorrow at 9. You told me so yourself. How long does it take you to walk?”

“About 45 minutes.” He sighed.

“And by car?”

“Maybe 10, 20 minutes tops.” He didn’t even need to think to know he’d lost this battle.

Pixie clapped her hands. “It’s settled then!”

[catt-writes]

The Nanny

“I can’t do this anymore Sir!”

The girl stood at her employer’s door, wringing her hands. Plastered on her face was a look of horror.

“Please, Miss. White. I’m sure we can sort something-”

“Sir, I can’t!” She threw up her hands “I’m sorry Mr. Edwards, Sir, and I mean you no disrespect, but your daughter is wild! I can’t look after her anymore!”

John looked at his nanny, taking in her wrought expression, dishevelled looks and what appeared to be an angry bite mark on her left hand, looping in a crescent in the fleshy area between thumb and forefinger. He sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I understand, Miss. White. I’ll write you a letter of recommendation. If you could just take care of Sarah for the rest of the evening, whilst I sort out alternate care…”

Miss. White let out a strangled noise, but nodded her head. She dropped into a curtsy, and left the office, shutting the door behind her. John threw up his hands.

“That darned child. She has the devil in her, I’m sure of it.” He turned to a small cabinet next to his desk, and poured a tot of amber whisky from a crystal decanter. Swallowing it in one, he let the warm mixture tail down his body before settling back at his desk to sort out the mess he now had before him.

xxx

“I don’t want to learn about Queen Victoria!” Sarah whined. She knew how to get her own way, and judging by how the stupid nanny her father had hired stood a good few meters away even though she was supposed to be teaching history told Sarah she had her grip on the woman.

“But little Miss, she’s your queen! You should be interested in her.” Miss. White tried to push back and take control. She could feel the sweat beading on her brow, and hoped her constant glances at the clock were not noticed.

“I don’t care!” Sarah picked up her notebook and throwing it against the wall. “She’s stupid, and I don’t care!”

“Miss, please!” Miss. White begged, rushing over to pick up the book. As she reached down, Sarah lunged at her. She didn’t touch Miss. White, but all the same the woman let out a shriek and fell, cowering against the wall.

“I said, I don’t care!” Sarah shouted, stamping her foot. “Queen Victoria is stupid! And you’re stupid! I hope you leave, and I never see you again!”

xxx

John stomped the snow off his feet, grumbling as he fought to take off his jacket and top hat. A maid took them, and he headed straight to his office. He poured another tot of whisky, downed it, and sat at his desk again. He’d just been out to the institute to hire a new nanny. Mr. Jones, a good friend of his and recruiter, had ensured him the new nanny was be a lot more capable than the last. This would be great, except that was exactly the words he had used the past six times. He wondered why his daughter couldn’t just be normal. Holding that thought, he picked up the silver frame he kept on the desk and stroked the glass. A thin, pale woman stared back at him, her face emotionless as she sat and waited for the photo.

“Let’s hope things get better.” He told her.

Xxx

And the next morning, Tessa Price stood in John Edward’s office.

“Good morning, Miss. Price. As you know, my daughter needs a nanny. Our previous nanny left, and your recruiter recommended you to me. I hope you’re up to the challenge?”

Tessa balled her fist and mimed knocking. She nodded her head.

John looked at her, confused. Tessa furrowed her brow. She pointed to her mouth and shook her head.

“You’re mute.” He said, realization dawning on him.

Tessa passed John a letter she had in her purse. He opened it, and read through it.

“Oh, I see.” He said.

[catt-writes]

Chicken Sandwich

It was midday. A Monday. No, not Monday, Tuesday. I’d had a day off Monday, and now my entire knowledge of the weekdays and what order they come in was fucked. It was not the only thing in my life that was fucked, but right now in this moment that was all that mattered.

Oh, and the fact that my best friend just walked in.

Sorry, that sounds very normal. Sitting in college, on a Tuesday (Not Monday), eating lunch; and your best friend walks in. That is very normal, isn’t it? I watched her walk over, my mouth hanging slightly ajar; the sandwich I was about to take a bite out of suspended in the air. Chicken was never really may favourite anyway. I like pretty much all sandwich fillings; egg, egg with cress, cheese, cheese and mayo, cheese and egg, you name it. Just not chicken.

Oh no, I’m rambling. Sorry again. Where were we? Oh yes.

My best friend, who should be dead, just walked in.

Now that’s just not normal!

Four things flashed through my mind now, pushing out the rambling sandwich monologue;

1.       My best friend, who should very much be dead, is not dead.

2.       Who the fuck did we bury??

3.       Has she seen her mother?

4.       Is that my jumper? I think that’s my jumper! Bitch.

“Hi.” She raised her hand and did a little wave.

HI?? Four months and only a ‘Hi!’?

Words. What are words? I’m still staring at her. My mouth is still ajar. I should probably close it. Or put my sandwich down. And probably also actually say something.

“Why the fuck are you still alive?”

Perfect.