Anita's Haven

books, thoughts, stories, poetry, interviews, writing

Author duel – Katheryn Caffee vs/& Wolfgang Schimanski

on 24/02/2015

So happy to host two completely different indie authors in a battle of wit, challenging each other with pictures to write stories. A double-whammy sandwich post with two great stories for free. Keep reading and sharing!



This is in reply to the picture Wolfgang sent me.
You’ve Been Challenged – Round 3
In 800 to 1000 words, write a story about this picture. Image provided by Wolfgang Schimanski

“My precious. Where is my precious?” The creature crawling along the floor whispered to itself.
Nameless gave it a brief glance, sizing it up in a moment as a non-threat. Between how thin it was, its posture screamed more loudly than words the creature was not a fighter. The fact that it did not have a collar around its neck, however gave him pause when it turned to glare at him and hold out its hand.
“Give me my precious. I know you have it.” it hissed at him.
Caught with his head up, and his eyes roaming when he wasn’t in the Sands or the cells, he cringed inside expecting to feel the searing lash of his master’s whip. He flicked his eyes at the dark robes ahead of him, and hurried to resume his proper place a long pace behind his master’s left shoulder. The creature behind him hissed in vexation, and scuttled after him.
Torn between the need to obey his master, and his instinctive reaction to someone approaching him aggressively, his feet started pattering out his signature dance steps there on the hard stone floor. The break from his normal silent steps finally attracted his master’s attention, and Gartal turned to see what was going on.
“Gives me my precious!” the creature demanded, the gravely voice hissing against the stone walls with a sound similar to when the walls crawled with Her littlest Children. Though his master has stopped, the boy child did not stop dancing. He remained in place, pattering out his readiness to kill.
“Imp! I though you had been banished from this Arena! Get away from him!” Gartal growled, stepping towards the creature, his hand raised in preparation to strike.
“They took my precious. Give me my precious and I leave. You have my precious!” The imp pointed at the child, and Gartal looked at the slowly quieting fighter.
“What do you want, imp? If it will get you out of here, without having to soil my hands on your filthy hide, just take it!” Gartal groused, turning his back on the pair, and looking up to the ceiling where several crystals had shifted colors. “Make it quick, or I may let the Silk warm up by killing you. Would do you both some good.”
The imp charged forward, his hand outstretched to snatch free the child’s red loincloth. His charge was met with an explosion of activity. The child caught his hand before it could close on the cloth. Thumbs locked together, the child wrenched the imps arm into an unnatural angle, forcing it to produce a wet crack as it bent. His feet pattered across the stone floor as his momentum built into a devastating that was never delivered. Gartal heard the crack and the sudden tempo of dancing feet in time to whirl, “Silk! Stop!”
The child briefly halted where he stood, then toppled over as his inertia forced his body to continue in the direction it had last been traveling. As he toppled to the floor, the imp jerked his loincloth free and wrapped it around his head. Then, with a hissing cackle, it scuttled down the corridor into one of the more dimly lit areas.
Neither the child nor his master heard the unhealthy wheezing abruptly stop when it vanished because Gartal had already begun flogging the child for acting without orders. Once more the Silk whip drove home the imperative that shaped the boy’s life: Obey exactly and immediately.

The above piece of flash fiction could easily fit into the early life of Nameless the main character in K. Caffee’s Followers of Torments Saga. If you are interested, you can find her work on Smashwords or Amazon.


Here is my story from the picture supplied by Katheryn Caffee. Hope y’all enjoy it ! 



I am a cat. But not just any cat. A cat who knows too much, way too much. Why is that, you ask? Glad you did as it’s too complicated to answer with a simple one liner. Call me Boris; I was born as part of a litter of five. I am a bonafide Persian with a little bit of Heinz 57 thrown in for good measure. 
My Daddy was a Preacher and my Momma was an alley cat. Kind of the other way around actually but it sounds cool, right? Daddy would chase down any available Kitty Kat in sight and take care of business like the Tom he was and Momma was left holding down the fort and providing for all of us offspring.
We lived in a loft with an interesting family named Johnson whose first names not co-incidentally started with J. John was the patriarch, Joanne the mother and the kids were Jason and Jasmine. And they had the gall to call me Boris but I didn’t feel too bad as my brothers and sisters names all started with other letters as well. I guessed, no I knew that it was a human/cat thing. 
All of us kittens grew up fairly normal learning the key elements of litter box training, chasing after cloth mice and then real ones, but most importantly to stay out of John’s way when he was writing. He was extremely focused when he was working and he worked the crime beat for a major metropolitan newspaper. We all learned pretty quickly what the repercussions were when my brothers and sisters tried to play with his printed pages; a nasty cuss, a boot in the behind, or a squirt of water from a spray bottle that he always managed to have handy. And all of us kittens hated water, except me of course because I was the odd duck…oops kitten of the bunch.
I would not go near John when he was writing but if he ever left any printed pages lying around, all bets were off. You see, I had a gift that no other cat or any animal for that matter had, I could read. I devoured his research and bylines like my brothers and sisters did voles, mice, chipmunks and even the occasional small bunny, in season of course. 
John was working on a particular complex story about a Financial Services company that rose from the ashes to become one of the key players in the industry and in the Stock Market in the matter of a few years. This was sounding too purrrfect to me to be true. Normally, it would take years for an organization such as this to rise to prominence. Something smelled really fishy, even more so than that Friskies fish pate we get served once in a while which my brothers and sisters gobbled up like starved calves. I, of course, knew better. I read the ingredients and realized we’d be lucky if a trace of a fish fin was actually in this by-product concoction. 
John, through meticulous research, traced the company back to a mysterious individual that appeared at the same time that this company began its rise to market dominance. What made my whiskers curl even more was that John could find out very little, if anything, about this mysterious and exotic individual. Strange and unexplained things were happening in the city especially after this company and its elusive chairman appeared on the scene.
I was fascinated and would sneak on silent pads into John’s office whenever the opportunity arose and I let my siblings know in certain terms I was not to be disturbed. I had the sharpest claws and I knew how to use them. The more I found out, the more frustrated I became. I could read but I couldn’t tell anyone as after all we cats don’t have vocal cords and all a lot of meowing would get us is a trip outside in that nasty -20 degree weather we’ve been having.
To make a long story short, curiosity got a hold of this cat and I just had to see through my own slit eyes what was going on with this long haired, dusky and according to John, extremely dangerous Russian. I was going on a road trip to find out what the scoop was and I mean that literally. But that will be a story for another day and another time. My immediate problem was going to be how curiosity was not going to kill this cat. Because I just knew too much.

Wolfgang’s thrillers are available on Amazon, storming the genre with his unique voice!

Anita Kovacevic


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