Written? Kitten!

Yes, I know. I am quite erratic with the blog posts. Anyway, had this cute link to Written? Kitten! and as I am a sucker for the demanding fur balls, I followed the link. It is a tool to prod you to write. For every 100 words you write, the website puts up a pic of an adorable little kitty.
Of course I just had to write something to get a litter of kittens. I pasted it here, but remember that Standard Disclaimers apply*.

The red ball dangled on the tree branch. Reflected on its shiny surface, a fireplace was in full blaze. A tiny little hand grew big in the reflection, until the chubby fingers curled around the red ball and yanked.
"Ah!" a mother's voice said, "Those aren't for playing Joey." She picked up the crawler child in yellow onsie, and turned him away from the tree and set him back down in front of his playskool toys scattered on the carpet.
The mother dropped back down on the couch before the roaring fire, and picked up her glass. Sprawled on the couch, her legs stuck out and the back cushions mussed her pageboy cut black hair. The comfortably worn out jeans she wore had faded at the knees. The oversized Snoopy shirt above them had a hole.
She reached over and took her drink from the wooden end table just within reach at the end of the couch, and brought it to her lips. Her eyes never turned away from the crawling child in front of her.
A radio in another room played Christmas tunes. The mantle clock ticked away. Flames burned lower. The baby played. His mother drank.
The boy left his toys and crawled over to the couch. When he came near, his mother picked him up and kissed him. He yawned and snuggled on her chest. One arm to keep the boy safe, she leaned down and hooked his blankie on the floor with her finger. Her face with a love filled smile, she wrapped Joey in the blanket and rocked.
When the glass rattled with empty ice, she dropped it on the end table with a thunk, and with Joey held to her chest, she stood to turn off the light.
The soft Christmas music still played in the other room. The fire still glowed. The tree became beautiful.
The mother came back to the couch, still holding her son to her chest, lay down and watched the fire. Christmas carols played. The fire danced in her gaze. She slept, her arms around her sleeping boy.
The fire burned down to ruby coals. A soft click from another room. The music stopped. A man, his snow covered coat still on his shivering frame, walked in as soft as a whisper.
He came over to the woman asleep on the couch, and kissed her cheek. She didn't stir.
He went to the high backed arm chair and took off his coat and boots. The fire melted the snow to water spots on the carpet. The man looked at his love with his child in her arms, and smiled.

Ha! Got four kittens out of that. 🙂
*These are raw words. No editing has been done. Your patience with any grammar or spelling errors is appreciated.

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