A Whisker Away Novels & Stories

I whispered to him while we look at her back walking away. "I agree. Aw, it feels like one of my teeth just fell off." ***

“Exactly what I said. Come. Take the whisk.” She hesitated, biting her lip like she knew I was setting a trap. But pride…stubborn, infuriating pride…pushed her forward. She padded towards me, muttering under her breath, and snatched the whisk from me like she wanted to stab me with it. “There,” she hissed. “Happy?” I smirked. “Not even close.” Before she could back away, I stepped in behind her, closing the space until her damp hair brushed my bare chest. She stiffened instantly, but I only lowered my head, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

A big cat. The mewing has stopped. Now she is quiet. But the scratching continues. And every few seconds, I hear her try to say one word. The only word she remembers. "Dada." I don't know what came home with me tonight. But I know it is not my daughter. And I know that Whiskers tried to protect us. He died for it. The scratching is getting louder.

I asked as I looked down at him and pushed him away with my leg. " Sana managed to convince her mother just this one time since I did help you guys out." Whiskers proudly say as he sits on my shoe, just to annoy me. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

She picked up her handbag which was on top of the drawer and grabbed the handle of the suitcase. Then, she turned to look at me and started walking elegantly toward me. She stopped some inches away from me and glared at me. Alpha Vicker was standing a couple of feet away from me. "Whitney, you have finally succeeded in making the Alpha break up with me, right?" she said with venom in her voice.

I whimper as I whisper, “Why?”

The whiskers are the final touch along with its eyes and small body, as the voice once more asks. “Ticking and picking, I am someone who holds the secret of the beginning, yet the same who does not see it all through and through, who am I?” Hiding inside the teapot is its small body, but the somehow drunken state is making it twirls, swirl and dance erratically around. She takes a deep breath as she looks forward and unto the voice, replying. “The Doormouse.” To its giggle that turns into an amusing, yet cunning tone, it stops, asking the same question, but like a riddle, unsatisfied, yet she is not wrong not practically right, it asks her once more.

The sound of running water whispered through the crack beneath the door, a secret conversation I was not meant to hear. My chest tightened as I thought about the wedding dress, once a labor of love my mom sewed for a whole month, then just a chopped-up mini skirt that choked the air from my lungs.

"Whatever this signal is, it is just a ghost—a stray ping from an unindexed backup somewhere in the dark. You are not alone anymore. You aren't hiding in a dark cottage, and you aren't fighting in a crumbling bunker. I am right here with you, and we will face whatever this is together. Do you hear me?" ​The fierce, absolute devotion in his voice melted away the icy grip of panic. The trembling in my hands subsided, replaced by a cold, sharp spike of determination. I nodded, placing my hands over his wrists. "I hear you. I'm with you." ​Zayne pressed a quick, fierce kiss to my forehead before turning back to the glowing terminal.

she whistled. For a few years, she'd been feeding this stray brown wolf she ran into on her way home one day. Its leg was caught in one of the traps she kept around her cabin. It growled at her when she got close, so she turned to leave it to its maker. That was what the traps were for, she reminded herself, but as soon as she walked away, it started to whimper. It seemed harmless, being that it was smaller than any werewolf she'd seen, so she was sure it was just a regular wolf.