The Literate Kitty

Yesterday was an anniversary, of sorts, for me, and I decided to sit down and write something about it. (It isn't a good memory--although it's an important one--so I don't let myself go back there too often.)  Writing has a way of opening your mind, though, and--as my fingers flew, in stops and starts across the keyboard, reliving moments from that day--I realized that something important was in the re-telling... a measure of grace, if you will. Just like that, what began as a cathartic exercise felt like a little story that needed telling.  So today, this post is a break from the usual reviews, to do just that: to share a moment of human experience. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ The Welfare Check You read things, in books… situations, small details, bits that you grasp, insomuch as you can, and then move on… to the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next chapter.  For me—lover of mysteries, crime tales, and thrillers—one of those “things” has always been the police. Technica...

Being able to read another person's mind... it sounds like the sort of thing that could come in handy, doesn't it? “What would my friend like more than anything else on her birthday? Is that cute guy into me? Is the boss about to fire me, or give me a raise?” Knowing the answers to such things would be useful. The sticking point with an ability like this, however, is the matter of control: being able to read someone’s mind on command... but no more. The opposite situation--having zero control over what or when you picked up another’s thoughts--would hardly provide the same usefulness.  Now, imagine if instead of channeling someone's thoughts (fears, hopes, dreams, whatever), what you could read was his or her future ... more precisely, the exact day, minute, hour--even method--of that person's death . Such is the life of one very unlucky soul, in author Chuck Wendig’s Blackbirds . Miriam Black is just a regular twenty-three-year-old girl. There’s nothi...