Present Past

Herro, comments in red, repetition in green (if there are any):

Light_Devil! wrote:A cat. There it sat. Or rather should I say, there it lay. (Is it bad to admit that I was hoping the rest of the stroy went like this, in rhyme and a Dr Seuss kind of way?) It seemed to be waiting for something, or that was just how it appeared to be. Maybe that was only the way I saw it. Perhaps if someone owned this cat they would know what it was actually doing. Surely this cat belonged to someone. I should hope so.

Small, fuzzy and unimportant. It lay there staring, waiting, watching. People might’ve thought me odd to have watched a waiting cat, but it might surprise you to know that it’s the small things in life that count; like brushing your teeth. Watch out for that when you age. (lol, nice. Little bits of humour like this catch readers by surprise)

I like to imagine the cat was female. It had that superior sort of stature that reminded me of my mother; over-powering and strong, yet soft and timidly beautiful. My mother passed away quite a while ago. I suppose it was my fault. She said she always wanted what was best for me.

You see, my mother had life insurance.

But we were broke. (So many conotations from those last four sentences. Reminds me of a short story written by Hemingway, "For sale: baby shoes, never worn.")

Yes, the cat, if it had a name it would’ve been Genetrix – Latin for Mother. I’ve always had a fancy for Latin. Dead language – that’s what they call it nowadays, but how can it be dead if it can be easily translatable on the internet? I suppose many things in life don’t have correct names. Like oranges and carrots – both orange, are they not? Maybe some guy way back when saw the oranges first. (Stealer )

There was some orange fur in the Genetrix’s coat, her owner should take better care of her, for it would’ve been quite ginger if it weren’t so dirty (Here would be a good time to mention mud or whatever on the fur from the accident to make it more obvious, and still remain subtle, if you know what I mean). She was so still, waiting. Poor thing. What a cruel owner. I suppose maybe there was an excuse for the owner; it was around about lunch time. Around about the time when the stomach is quite used to turning (I think "churning" works here better) your chewed food into starch for your body. Around the time you still play (? I know what you mean, but perhaps, "you still procrastinate and waste time") while someone makes your meal.

Genetrix looked hungry. Starving in fact, almost as if she were empty. I pitied her. Yet, she awed me. Still so beautiful, while so haughty.

People would’ve thought me odd staring at a watching cat. Stranger still that neither the cat nor I moved, for we were too similar to stop being so alike and yet not be entirely exact. (With the knowledge of the ending of this story, this sentence gives me the creeps ) The cat more so familiar, I suppose. Red. Oh, well. I can see why the owner isn’t coming back. Even after lunch. Even if it were prepared to that aroma-drooling perfection (I think you've forgotten a few words in that sentence. "Even after he or she had finished preparing that aroma, drooling-commencing perfection of a meal, and had eaten it.").

From the floor of which the object of my attention lay I finally realised what I had known all along, watching the strong-weak beauty. Red, seeping, leaking through the edges, fine drops upon the pavement of the bitumen path behind my house. Like a flower of crimson upon the background of a crumbling night sky. (Love the imagery)

Genetrix. Oh, how wonderful, how perfect and lovely you would’ve been.

Had you still been alive. (I almost think that this should have ended here, because it would have left the reader significantly creeped out and shivering as their skin crawled.)

I stood. I knew what had happened. I stripped off my jumper, a cheap five dollar cotton thing size 6, and placed it over her beautiful corpse. Bowed my head. And cried.

This was lovely. It was so flighty and confused and melancholic.

I'm not sure if I could completely follow along with everything, but it was definitely emotive. I just felt immersed in the character's mindset and swept up in the images. Quite lovely.

You see, my mother had life insurance.

But we were broke.

Hey, thanks all for the reviews.

Napalmerski - I thought that if I described the background/setting too much it would ruin the intertwining past and present. As in it would set it in one place in time more than the other. However, thank you for pointing the double "seemed". Heheh, I do love to babble and randomly sprinkle meaning within it.

Lilymoore - I used "fur" more than once? WHAT HAVE I BECOME!?! Thank you for pointing that out. If there's one thing I dislike more than anything it's being repetitive. Also, I just realised that that was a weird sentence.

And to both you and Babymagic18, the meaning of the title, Present Past, is the fact that these two things are the same here, so close to each other, but seperated by themselves. For the character, in this story, is living now his present and reliving now his past. Therefore, Present Past.

Again thank you for your time and your reviews. (Also, congrats Lily! )

Um I really don't know what to say about this piece other than it needs serious work done to it if you really want people to read it. The title is fine that is what draws the reader in but when the story does not work with the title it is a bit of a let down. sorry to put it that way. I was a little disappointed in this. I really was expecting more. Maybe on the next piece you write?

Hey there LD! It's clobberin reviewing time!

A cat. There it sat. Or rather should I say, there it lay.

There was some orange fur in the Genetrix’s fur,

Stranger still that the cat nor I did not move,

Yo,
this is quite nice, confusing, stream of consiousness impressionism. Actually I'm a sucker for small hints of important past events interwoven into babble.

It seemed to be waiting for something, or that was how it seemed. - that sounds like something the mad hatter would say. Maybe cut one of the 'seemed'?

You are the author, so you're not obliged to justify why the realization that the cat is dead dawned so late on the observer, he's obviously on the fence between realities, but just a few sentences of describing where this takes place, like street, mall, in front of building Y, will help add a little reality around the fog of the protagonist's head. Give us some conext.

Anyway, that was fun to read