Tag Archives: short story

by

A Harmless “Cat-a-Clysm”

Kittens nursing

A Harmless “Cat-a-Clysm”

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

Our beloved cat, Feemy, was two years old and the mother of Squeaky, who was one year old.  Squeaky gave birth to four lovely kittens.  We had fixed her a box a few days before the event, and she seemed content with our nest for her little ones. In the meantime, we had to prepare another box for Feemy, who was also expecting.

A few days after Squeaky’s arrivals, we discovered Feemy had performed her task.  We looked for her kittens but couldn’t find them.  Shortly thereafter, we noticed Feemy going into Squeaky’s box, so we took a look inside. Sure enough, Feemy’s three beautiful newborn kittens were there, along with Squeaky’s four older ones.

Wanting to make things more comfortable for them, we transferred Squeaky’s four kittens into a larger box.  But, the next time I went out to inspect the litters, Squeaky had carried one of Feemy’s kittens into her box. So, I picked it up and put it back into the “right” box (where Feemy’s other babies were).  This process was repeated over and over, until finally, all the kittens, somehow, ended up in one box, all mixed up.  That’s when we decided to let the cats handle the situation their own way!

The arrangement now is that all the kittens – babies and grand-babies — are together in one box, along with mother and daughter, who take turns “kitten sittin’.”  I guess you could call it an “extended family”!

(For more short stories by Angie Brown, click HERE)

by

THE BIG BLACK BUILDING

Old-school phoneTHE BIG BLACK BUILDING

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

Being gifted in sketching and painting, my sister and I decided to enroll in an evening class of oil painting.  Thrilled to be back in school, we completed the first year.  My sister dropped out then, but I started my second year.

After class on this one particular evening, the students seemed to be in a hurry and left, leaving me the last one of our class to depart. The stairs to the first floor were dimly lit, but I could still make my way down. I had to get to the telephone, which was located in the lobby, to call my husband to pick me up.

Suddenly, all the lights went out, and the building was in total darkness. I was familiar with the first floor, so I knew my way there. By placing my hand on the wall I could slide it along slowly past the closed classroom doors. Reaching the lobby, I saw a streak of light coming through the main door from an outdoor street lamp.

Fortunately, I could also make out the outline of the telephone booth. As I approached it, I could see that the inside of the booth was completely dark.  Now, how was I to see the numbers on the rotary wheel?  After feeling around for the dial, I trustingly hoped I would hit the right numbers. I only had one dime of change in my pocket, one chance to get the right numbers. I carefully dialed the numbers and waited anxiously. Success: I heard my husband’s voice!  With great relief, I desperately shouted, “Please hurry. The lights are out. It’s dark in here, and I’m scared to death.”  Now I would have to retrace my steps along the wall to the door where I would be picked up. I stood near the door trembling for fear that someone else was still in the building and would snatch me in the dark. The outside was just as dark.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I saw my husband’s car. I dashed out and jumped into the waiting open door.  It was then that I realized I had been all alone in the big, black, building.

(For more articles by Angie Brown, click HERE)

by

Mrs. Butterworth Teaches a Lesson

A maple syrup tapMrs. Butterworth Teaches a Lesson

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

This true story took place many years ago in a small town on the outskirts of Olean in western New York State. One spring day, on his way home from school, my 10-year-old son, Leo, noticed all the pails hanging on the sugar maple trees to collect fresh sap that was to be boiled down to make maple syrup.  He rushed into the house, saying, “Hey, Mom, let’s make some maple syrup, OK?” Now, the making of maple syrup was not exactly one of my priorities, mind you, but I didn’t want to squelch his enthusiasm. So, I thought, “Why not?  We could give it a try.  It might be fun.” And so, the ill-fated plan was hatched.

We waited until the following Saturday morning. Then, Leo borrowed his father’s drill and made holes in several nearby sugar maple trees.  Inserting the spouts and pounding in nails to hold the collecting pails, he was now ready for the sap to start running. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before we had enough sap to start with. So we collected the sap from all of our pails into one larger container, strained the impurities out and poured the sap into my canning kettle.  Setting it on the stove, we fired up the burner and began to envision delicious, homemade maple syrup for our pancakes. What a special treat that was going to be! Or so we thought.

The sap simmered slowly for several hours, and I wondered, “Why do people go to all the trouble of making a fire outside in a well-ventilated sugar shack, getting cold and standing around all bundled up, when it was so easy to do it right in the comfort of your own kitchen?” Then I went about my housework while the boiling continued.  I checked the kettle periodically and noticed that the boiling sap was just beginning to change to a very light brown color, characteristic of a high-grade maple syrup.  “We’ll soon have some maple syrup,” said Leo excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops.

But a little later, when I walked into the living room, our eager anticipation turned into alarm. I noticed a large, wet spot on the ceiling; then another and another! Then I noticed that the same thing was happening in the adjoining dining room too! Suddenly, a light went on in my head. That must be the reason for using the sugar shack; it allows the water vapor from the sap to escape through the vents, instead of condensing on the ceiling. In a panic, we stopped the boiling immediately, to prevent further damage to our ceilings; so much for our homemade maple syrup!

That day both mother and son learned a valuable lesson by trial and error; a little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing.  And we had plenty of time to let this little lesson sink in, as we waited anxiously for the wet spots on our ceilings to dry. I sure hope Mrs. Butterworth wasn’t watching!

(For more articles by Angie Brown, click HERE)

by

An Ocean Experience

Coquillages à Fadiouth, SénégalAn Ocean Experience

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

The sight of the ocean slamming against the barrier and licking the sand in its hungry reach was fascinating.  I remember walking along Carolina Beach many years ago and marveling at such a vast body of water. I was so close to it, yet safe on solid ground.

When I looked far out to the horizon, as far as I could see, I could hardly believe that I was seeing only part of it, it was so immense.  Just beyond where the ocean meets the sky, I could see the roundness of the earth, betraying the earth’s spherical shape.   There was nothing to obscure the view of endless sky over endless water.  Both were awe-inspiring and breathtaking.  I would often sit on the large rocks on shore, silently observing the awesome power of the ocean as it crashed into the boulders and bluffs at water’s edge. Suddenly, I saw a school of whales performing their acrobatics far from the shore, leaping out of the water and splashing violently back into it, one after another.  I could only wonder where they came from and where they were going. The whole experience left me spellbound.

The next day, I set about to experience the ocean in other, more interactive ways. First, I decided to try my luck at fishing. With a little help from the pros, I began to cast my line for fish.  They promised me that I would catch some fish, and, sure enough, I did! While I may not have broken any length or weight records, these were my fish, and I was proud of my results! After that, I went hunting for sea shells on the beach. Before long, my plastic bag was bulging with the many shells that I found on the sand after the waves had washed over the shore during high tide. What a beautiful assortment of shapes, sizes and colors I had collected! I thought to myself, “These will make perfect souvenirs to remind me of my visit to the beach.”

My trip to the ocean was an interesting and memorable adventure for me. And, how grateful I was to have had an opportunity to experience, first-hand, some of the natural wonders that my Creator provided for me to enjoy! I couldn’t wait for my next opportunity to go to the beach and enjoy another ocean experience.

(For more articles by Angie Brown, click HERE)