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The night-time gales howled outside the cabin and ripped loose branches from the grasp of the winter trees. The trees creaked and groaned under the strain of the wind’s icy grip and stretched their bare branches towards the stars, as in a resolute act of submission to the harshness of the elements.

Inside their cabin, Maxwell and Skippy huddled by the reassuring safety of a roaring open fire, as the gale vented its fury outside their home. Reluctantly, Maxwell pointed up to the hands of the clock upon the chimneybreast and then he turned downwards towards his younger brother.

“Just one short story before bedtime,” pleaded Skippy, looking upwards towards his older brother and smiling sweetly, “Just one short story before it’s time for bed, please.”

Maxwell smiled and reached towards a book resting upon the arm of the couch. He picked it up carefully, pretending to blow clouds of make-believe dust of its ancient leather cover.

“This is a perfect story for a night such tonight,” he smiled at his younger brother, “It will make your blood chill in terrifying fear and absolute misery.”

Maxwell held one hand under the book to steady its pages and then raised his free hand upwards, trembling his outstretched fingers in a dance of teasing anxiety, as he muttered his voice in a low tantalising horrified mummer. The light from the flickering fire caught the silhouette of the claw-like fingers and a set of extended shadows danced and flickered across the far wall of the room, as in some gruesome dance of fear.

Skippy looked upwards to his elder brother with loving admiration and tiny goose bumps of anticipated fear rose across the back of his neck. He trembled slightly and let out a hushed squeal of feigned horror.

“Oh lovely!” he giggled, “Please do continue.”

With that, he rested gently beside his bigger brother upon the couch in front of the fire and then watched as Maxwell lowered his hand, extended his forefinger gently and placed it upon the top of the opened page, to trace the words one-by-one. (For, although being a hundred and five years old, Maxwell still hadn’t quite mastered the skill of fluent reading aloud.)

Slowly and deliberately Maxwell began to read …

Maxwell and I put on our pyjamas while the storm shook all the windows in our home. We thought it best to stay close together.



Maxwell pulled one of the big dusty books off of the shelves in our library and we sat huddled close together on our sofa by the fire, and Maxwell read to me the poem "The Raven".



I was a little nervous and not too scared. Honest I wasn't! It was just that it was so gusty and blustery outside. (Skippy shivers..)



And even though we had a bit of a fright when we heard a loud knock knock knocking on the front door... and and and... Maxwell reassured me that it was just the strong wind... and and and... well, Maxwell kept me distracted with the book. Yep he did.



We both decided it best to sleep on the sofa by the fire tonight, because tomorrow is a big day. It's our first kitty auction.



Tonight, my big brother and I were inspired by Lord and Lady Raven, who we do hope will find a very special home tomorrow! Do stop by Miss Nino's amazing auction! It starts at 10am SLT tomorrow!

Miss Nino's Auction

Read more about the auction here if you're interested: Our First Auction

You guys do SUCH an amazing job with the photos and stories! Thank you so much!

Absolutely enchanting as always

WOW!! You guys r brilliant as per usual! Love your great pics & stories. Puts a big old grin on my face. Thank you!

Oh wow, I loved this! Beautiful story and gorgeous photos!

I love the way you make it like a movie as you go down the page. The setting, the expressions, the movements, everything was perfect. (Although I must confess I was waiting for your kittycat to push that bust off the cabinet because she was eyeing it, you know she was.)