The Fat Cat Book Novels & Stories

He had cookbooks? A laugh almost escaped my lips. This was not what I expected from him. Snap! My hand knocked off a book nestled between two thick leather+bound books and I bent to the floor, picking it up. But, something about it caught my attention. Probably the book title font, or the fact that the cover was hella attractive. I couldn't quite place. I stared at the book written in Bold black and white font with the title: A New Pet for the Mafia King By Author Liy Lah.

She peered at me through her round glasses for a moment, then smiled again. “Enjoy.” I was then left alone. I simply shook my head. I dug into the contents of the box. It held a number of books, newspapers and photographs. My eyes caught a small leather bound booklet, with the outline of a curved cat pressed onto it’s cover. I pulled it out– ‘A Feline’s Capabilities…The Cat as The Obsidian Circle’s Symbol” it read.

Tara A strange sound cleaves the heavy silence of the library — a sharp, broken laugh, which surprises even me. It transforms into a rictus I feel on my lips without having commanded it. "A conversation? Is that what you call it?" says Mike, retreating behind his armchair, making a barrier of leather and wood between us. His gaze is slimy, shifting from terror to desperate provocation. It's the trap of the cornered rat. "It's the beginning, Mike. The beginning of the end of our lies."

A cat blinked at me from a stack of poetry. “Looking for anything specific?” the old lady asked. “Something old,” I said. “Something rare. Italian. About rebirth. Survival.” She nodded, and twenty minutes later she brought out a first edition—“La Fenice: The Phoenix.” It was a story of pain, death, and rebirth. The tale of a girl who burned in the fire and rose stronger. The cover was worn leather, gold-pressed lettering. Inside, hand-stitched. I opened the last page and tucked in a pressed lily. Katarina favorite flower.

Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him. He'd never intended to keep it. When Lena Carter had offered it to him—those gentle words, that thoughtful crease between her eyebrows—he'd intended to refuse. But something in her eyes had taken away his intention. It was neither flirting nor pretense. It was genuine. Silent. Generous. He hated kindness. It broke things open. Julian gazed down at the book. The cover was unadorned, the title in gold print: *A Man Called Ove*. He remembered Lena's words:

And I hate how good it made me feel. Footsteps approach the bed, and from the heavy presence filling up the room, I don't need to guess who it is. “I will not tolerate any petulant behavior from you, kitten.” Nile’s silky baritone caresses my ears. “I was told you've refused to eat.” “I will eat when you let me go. I'm tired of this circus of a lifestyle, and I definitely don't want to be around you.” The sheets are yanked off me in a second, leaving me curled in a fetal position, in nothing but the bathroom robe. I hear his sharp inhale, followed by his hot hand landing on my shoulder.

Fatima said scrutinizing her gaze at him. "FUCK promise." He cursed under his breath. She handed the kitten to the children unwillingly as they took it happily and went back. Abaan grabbed her arm and made her sit inside the car politely. "You know what kittens are the cutest creatures on the earth. I wish I would also be a cat so I can sleep wherever I want and people will love me alot and will take care of my needs and never will hurt me." Fatima said as she was blabbering things whatever were coming in her mind.

"Someone is happy to be back." "Chunky?" Evelyn asked, kneeling next to me, mystified by the cat. "I had only seen the shadow of a cat earlier. I didn't realize it was friendly." "It's a big ship. They like to stay on the lower decks and hunt rats. He's Chunky, the fattest ship cat," I explained, using both hands to rub his little face. He purred against my hands, sounding like an earthquake. "An honorary title." Evelyn laughed before trying to cover it up by clearing her throat. "Can I?" she asked, reaching out to the cat.

Charlotte insisted on doing it herself. “I thought you might like this one,” she said as she handed me the book. “It’s about a man who loses everything. Then…he tries to get it back together little by little.” I glanced at the cover. The title was dramatic. So I said, flatly, “Sounds dramatic.” She let out a short laugh. I never heard someone laugheed like this before. She looked so innocent and pure. Well, she was a budding she-wolf and perhaps still figuring out how the world works.

Charlotte asked trying to figure out the reason behind her wolf’s wish. “Just trust me. Write it.” Her wolf snapped. Worried that she’d anger her more, Charlotte quickly put ‘fairies’ below ‘werewolves’ but she didn’t think that they were fairies amongst the species in her. She flipped the pages of the book again after her wolf’s weird behavior. The page opened to that of ‘werecats’. Charlotte was surprised at that. Werecats…huh! There’s no way that this is real, she thought to herself.