Merlin the Magic Cat

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My kitten, Merlin, was born of the ancient magick, the deep lore - fashioned from a simple swirling spark. That crumb of fire, quite inexplicably, pulsed in the air as a beating heart awaiting its body. Glowing, wingless, it hovered. Ba-boom! Ba-boom! Four chambers. Metronomic precision. Then slowly more came as if drawn in sunlight ink.

 

From bright buds came timid tendrils of whispering ivy, from the tendrils sprouted golden glittering arteries and veins! Bones as sinews of pure light etched themselves into the air, muscles too. In layers of inky-light the unseen spirit-pen formed a kitten as brilliant as any star. As his eyes opened, the fire crackled on. Then, through the wending threads of wood-smoke, my feline friend leapt. Lightly, brightly, on four purr-fect smoky paws he took soft first steps.

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What a fantastic sight he was! On his body were tiger stripes of smoky grey and blazing red - the eddying calm lashed with feisty inferno fur tattoos! His white whiskers as ever writing lyrics looped, curved and flicked. His tattletale-tail was a sweetly seditious semaphore of cattish internal skirmishes. Even his meow was a covert conspirator with multiplying internal mischief sparks. Calm, gentle and serenity is merely his energy saving mode.   

 

Boom! Pounce!