Myths and legends are oral traditions passed down through the generations. This oral lore is something humans and cultures across the globe have in common. Tales of gods and goddesses. Nature, seasons, and animals. Fae folk and the Tuatha de Danaan. Rich fables weaved with superstitions, the Otherworld, and veils. Stories shared around fires or ...

This story is from Day 2 – FlashNaNo challenge. Story prompt: Write a story of a man who has at least three cats. Coffee is the drink of the hour. At least it is for the people at the neighborhood coffee shop called Marty’s Coffee. All day, every day, people filter in and out of ...

He knew he was going to die. So Clifford lived alone in a one-room cabin in the woods. He was a simple man; he liked simple things. He enjoyed his morning coffee with one cream and two spoonfuls of sugar. The only thing Clifford loved more than his coffee were his cats, Edger, Alan, and ...

Winter and the blue devils playnot even halfway through— what are we to do?but linger in bed awaiting spring. I ponder dreadful thoughts and hankerfor the greasy delights of bacon sarnies. In the dense dark morning,the cat, her motley wild fur-ball body,masked ninja yellow eyes,jumps onto the bed,ambushing the pulsing doona,she crouches, creeping, creeping quietly,pouncing ...

I’ve had cats all my life. Never has any two been the same in personality or preferences. As a life-long member of the “Slave To My Cats” club, there are some myths I have personally debunked. If you own a cat, maybe you can relate. If you are looking to own a cat, then maybe ...

Fall colors come late, Orange cat in the window, My heart yields to change

Hi, Coffee House Readers! It is me, Jazzy, the superstar kitten of the Jazzy Chronicles here to entertain you with my adventures from the last two weeks. Before I get into it, if you missed my first three chronicles, you can read Arrival, Hide and Sneak, and Copycat with the links Tish helped me to ...

Hi! I’m back with more to report about my life with Tish and Roy. If you missed Arrival, or Hide and Sneak, just use your mouse, the kind I am not supposed to chase, to find them. Tish calls me the Jazzy Monster, sometimes, but most often, she will tell people I’m a growing concern. Jazzy ...

“I can’t even look at her.” When I was in graduate school, I had a friend who had just experienced a heartbreaking breakup, and she told me this as she struggled not to cry. These words weren’t spoken about a child, but her dog. I consoled her, reminding her that the dog didn’t know what ...