The park was morning damp, its path muddy and its trees glistening with dew. The wet lightly soaked the fur of her cat suit as she made her way to the picnic area; she crawled toward the outdoor amphitheater where the squirrel lived. As she crept closer it suddenly leapt from a bush next to the bandstand; she arched her back and did her best to hiss like a feline but the squirrel, nonplussed, simply flicked its tail. The light of morning was bright but she refused to open her eyes until she could remember every part of the dream.
How about a 100-word triple-play?
I give you Friday Fictioneers for 17 January (the image labeled ), Anonymous Legacy’s Writeable Moments (labeled ), and Today’s Author from 14 January (labeled ). Click each to visit the prompts.