Should be Day 190.
The Prompt: Write a short story using these words: lamp, dish, lamb, cat, and mountain.
It had been raining for over a half hour. The thunderstorm had cut the power, and I was sitting in my living room of my cabin reading a Stephan King novel by the light of the fire. I'm not sure why I was in the dark reading that kind of book on a night like that, but I had nothing else better to do with my time than scare myself. I liked the thrill it gave me, thinking that danger could be sneaking in the shadows. My cabin was isolated in the forest though; the only people that would be anywhere near me would be escaped convicts or lost travelers.
I had just gotten to the part when Missy was face to face with her potential killer when I heard a scratching noise near by back screen door. At first, I thought it was the wind playing around. I continued reading. The metal bucket that I had near the hose interrupted the gentle sound of the rain pattering as it crashed to the ground. I clutched the arms of my chair and looked towards the window. I couldn't see anything, so I turned my attention back to my book.
After hearing a third noise, even louder than the first two, I knew someone or something was out there. I turned on the lamp sitting by the back door out of habit. Of course it didn't work. After rifling through my junk drawer for my flash light, I put on my rain coat and shined the light onto my patio. My planter, my three foot tall one, had been knocked over. As I continued searching the yard, I thought I saw large pawprints in the mud. That only meant one thing. There was a mountain lion loose. I knew those cats lived around here, but they had never come near my house, before.
Why this cat chose to invade my perimeter on a night like this, I could only guess. I went back inside as fast as I could and locked the door behind me. I wasn't about to become dinner. I tried to read my book again, but my anxiety distracted me too much. I looked towards the glass door again and saw a dark figure. The cat must have been at least three feet tall and five feet long. I was safe in the house, but I had to make sure that what I heard was indeed a mountain lion.
I forced my feet to move, and with my flashlight and a large pot in hand, I slowly unlocked the door and poked my head out. My light hovered near the trees in the distance and moved towards the patio furniture. I saw the bushes quiver, and I nervously flashed the light around the yard until the orb landed on a soaked lamb. I'm still not quite sure I could have confused a baby sheep with a carnivorous feline; perhaps the inadequate lighting combined with my imagination skewed the clues to a more fearsome animal.
I was relieved that it was only a lamb. It didn't run when I approached it, so I was guessing it was a domesticated sheep from the farm that was a few miles away from me. Its mournful bleating evoked my sympathy, and I guided the wet lump of wool into the house and brought it near the fire to warm up. I knew it couldn't be left unattended for more than a minute, which is why I rushed to get it some milk in the kitchen. When I set the dish down in front of it, he eagerly lapped up the milk while I rubbed him down with the blanket I had been using the cover up. I'd find his owner in the morning, but for that night, I had a pet.
I like this one.
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