L J Craven
RATTERS Ghosts of Shady Ly - Book One
Dust is a Ratter, a large cat bred and raised in the Ratevict Laboratory for the sole purpose of controlling vermin in industrial buildings. He has never seen The Outside, or met a real rat.
His first assignment is in a vast and shadowy storage warehouse, named The Boxes, by the eight other Ratters he is stationed with. Within these confusing walls, and under the dim glow of the flat lights, the Ratters get to know one another, sharing their incredible kittenhood tales and hazy fragments of memory. Dust begins to dream of his mother, and soon believes that his haunting dreams of her are real, and she is showing him how to escape.
As they explore their new world, the Ratters interact with the humans who work there, and discover that some are kind, and some are not. They find themselves fighting against an intelligent group of rats, and they meet an old tom cat through a hole in the wall.
As each new encounter provides more compelling evidence that The Outside must be real, the Ratters begin planning their escape. But are the humans safe? Is the shifty rat leader telling the truth? Is the old tom cat crazy? Do they really have evidence that The Outside is real, or just hope?
But when their cunning plans are foiled by the observant humans, Dust's only remaining hope of escape is to follow his haunting dreams, which leads to tragedy, and a race against time to get every cat out of The Boxes.
RATTERS Prologue - Welcome to PMD THE BRIGHT MORNING SUN SAT LOW in the clear blue sky. Three crows circled high on the breeze above Fiona as she waited on the grass verge by the reservoir, her back to the warehouse car park. She watched the sunlight dance on the water as she listened to the muffled meows rumbling around inside the Ratevict van behind her. There was one cage left, secured in the back of the van, and covered in a heavy blanket. She glanced at her watch, sighed, and let her eyes wander back across the glistening surface of the water… ‘Oy! Miss … er …Whatever.’ Fiona looked up to see a gaunt, icy eyed youth of around nineteen frowning at her from the warehouse foyer. She straightened her curly red hair and green tunic, but she couldn’t stop her shoulders sagging as she recognised her supervisor. He was wearing the same white lab coat and ripped jeans he’d worn at her interview, and it didn’t look as though he’d washed his greasy black hair or shaved his stubbly chin since. She didn’t know how he’d become a supervisor of anything, but her first day was not the time for questions like that, so she greeted him with a polite smile and said, ‘Good morning, Mr Frost. It’s Ms Best, Fiona Best.’ Mr Frost curled his upper lip and replied. ‘Well, now you’re here, you can bring that last Ratter inside.’ The forlorn meows of the last cat quietened as Fiona hurried over to the Ratevict van and pulled the back doors open, and as the sunlight reflected off the windows, she was reminded of her instructions… 14. Ratters must be shrouded when transported outside. 14.1. Never expose a Ratter to external light or stimuli, including scents, sights, and sounds. Doing so will cause distress to the animal… Leaning into the van, she checked over the heavy blanket. It was damp and smelt of bleach, but it was okay, the cat was completely covered. Fiona wasn’t sure that shrouding any cat from the outside world was okay, but those were her orders. ‘Come on then…’ she read the label, ‘Aldorholt Dream Dust. R24. Male. Long haired brown tabby.’ Carefully she slid the large cage towards her and lifted it from the back of the van. The cat was heavy, and as she put the cage down on the ground, claws scraped its bare metal floor. ‘Quickly!’ Mr Frost was holding the foyer door open. Fiona closed the van doors, picked up the cage and hurried toward the warehouse. As she walked, she stared up at the huge dreary box, nonchalantly crafted in cold grey metal and slumped on top of an office of uniform red bricks. Through the large dusty windows at the front, two ladies in flowery blouses smiled at her, and a young woman in a red uniform shirt, waved. Fiona returned their smiles and waves, and quietly wondered how anyone could be so excited by the arrival of the unfortunate cats who’d try to make this soulless place their home. Mr Frost drummed his fingers on the door, then let it go. Fiona hurried after him and made a desperate grab for it, almost trapping her fingers as she struggled to pull it open again with the heavy cage in her hands. ‘Oh! is this the last one, Craig?’ asked a flowery-bloused lady from behind the reception desk. Mr Frost ignored her and picked up a clip board. Fiona struggled through the door and hurried to the desk. Her hand was beginning to sting from the cage’s narrow metal handle, so she put it down at her feet as she caught her breath. Claws scraped metal. ‘Hello, you must be Fiona, said the lady, ‘I’m Janice, and that’s Helen, and that’s Steph from the warehouse,’ Janice waved her hand around the office. Fiona smiled and nodded to everyone, and Janice went on, ‘Welcome to PMD…’ she lowered her voice and whispered with a conspirative glance at Mr Frost, ‘…what’s this kitty called?’ ‘Dream Dust,’ Fiona told her. ‘Oh, how sweet, they all have such—’ ‘Aldorholt Dream Dust is the Registered Ratevict name for this animal,’ Mr Frost looked up from his clipboard and glared at Fiona. ‘You can read their tattoo’s, right?’ 23. Understanding Ratter ear tattoos. 23.1. All Ratters have a binary ear tattoo for ease of marking and identification. 23.2. All Ratevict employees must learn to read the tattoos, see appendix 7.3… Fiona had been ready for sleep by the time she’d read to directive twenty-three. She understood the idea behind the tattoos, but as she’d only be caring for nine cats, she wasn’t worried. She’d get to know them all by sight quickly enough. ‘Of course,’ she told Mr Frost. ‘Good. Now follow me.’ Fiona smiled apologetically to Janice, picked up the cage and followed Mr Frost towards a brown door in the back corner of the office. This time, under the watchful gaze of the other staff, he held it open for her. She followed him into a dimly lit corridor. The door swung closed behind them. ‘Right,’ Mr Frost mumbled as he turned over a sheet on his clipboard. Fiona gripped the cage handle in both hands. There wasn’t enough room in the cluttered corridor to put it down, and she didn’t want to lean any closer to Mr Frost and his overpowering odour of damp ponds, so she leant back against the door. The cat shifted below the blanket. She silently thanked his frightened little soul for being so patient. ‘Okay,’ Mr Frost looked up, ‘This is simple, so you should understand.’ Fiona raised an eyebrow … and nodded. Mr Frost frowned, ‘I was hoping for someone younger,’ he leant back and looked Fiona up and down, ‘aren’t vet techs supposed to be young? Will you be able to cope?’ The cat in the cage hissed. Fiona tightened her grip on the handle and silently told the cat not to worry, she may be old enough to be Mr Frost’s mother, but she was not too old to care for cats. Then she smiled and said, ‘I’ll be fine, I’m a registered veterinary nurse with an advanced diploma in small animal—’ ‘Ratters are big.’ Fiona took a deep breath. She didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him, but she knew her job. ‘Mr Frost,’ she said politely, ‘these cats are cross bred from large domestic breeds, but they are mostly hand reared and handled since birth, so, pliant. And the largest cat here is only seven and a half kilograms, so—’ ‘Ratters are not cats. Crazy old women have cats. Warehouses with rat problems have Ratters. Try not to get … emotionally confused.’ Fiona took another deep breath. Mr Frost went on, ‘Ratters are a business asset. An investment for companies, like these people, who want to protect their stuff from rodent damage. They are scientifically bred from some special bloodlines then intensively trained for six-months to track and hunt rodents in industrial places like this. They don’t care about fuss, or laps, or catnip. Or you. And before you ask, no — they can’t escape. They won’t even try. These animals don’t even know the outside world exists. And I have CCTV in case anyone gets any stupid ideas. A Ratter’s only purpose is exterminating vermin. A Ratter is not a cat, do you understand?’ 2. What is a Ratevict Ratter? 2.1. A Ratter is a large breed of cat… Fiona nodded. ‘Good. Now, these first-generation Ratters all excelled at killing Ratbots—’ ‘Ratbots?’ Fiona asked. ‘It means, Remote-control Attention Training Battle Offensive Targets, didn’t you—’ ‘Like those cute little mousy cat toys?’ she chanced a smile. ‘No.’ Mr Frost sneered, ‘Ratbots are designed to simulate vicious wild rodents, not for having fun with little pets. These Ratters are the best predators in their generation, and I have been given the job of studying their effectiveness against real rats. So, I will decide how these animals are managed, and you will follow my orders. Do you understand?’ Fiona nodded again. The cat in the cage growled. ‘Good. Let’s get it to its cupboard.’ Cupboard…? Fiona didn’t like the sound of that, and she didn’t like the look of the cluttered corridor either. Too many cardboard boxes, stuffed full of paper and precariously stacked against the walls, didn’t make this a safe environment for any animals, cats, or rats… ‘So,’ she asked, ‘are there really any rats here? It’s a paper document storage warehouse, isn’t it?’ ‘Of course, there’s rats here. Why do you think PMD agreed to the Ratevict Ratters trial?’ ‘But why would there be rats here? They infest food storage warehouses not—’ ‘Because of the ancient underground tunnels,’ Mr Frost smirked. Fiona doubted that any modern warehouse would have ancient underground tunnels, but she didn’t want to ask any more questions. She followed him through the cluttered corridor, past a small lift and around a corner to where an elderly black man with frizzy white hair and blue overalls stood waiting patiently in front of a tatty green door. ‘Get ready to open it,’ Mr Frost demanded. The elderly man gave him a curt nod and gripped the door handle. Mr Frost turned to Fiona, ‘Put the cage on the floor, remove the blanket, open the cage door and back away. knock when you are ready to come out. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘When you’re done, take the lift to Basement One. Our lab is the white door. You can’t miss it.’ And without waiting for her to reply, he turned and walked back towards the lift. Fiona waited for him to go, then said to the elderly man, ‘Hi, I’m Fiona. This is the last cat, I think.’ ‘John. John Bonner, or slow old John,’ he chuckled, ‘It should be the last one, I fetched all the others in. Poor little lad. Is it a lad?’ Fiona smiled, ‘Hey, John … er, yes, he is a lad, his name is Dream Dust.’ John nodded. The cat in the box shifted. ‘Be careful,’ John whispered as he opened the green door, ‘That young Craig Frost … watch out for him. I just does the mopping down ‘ere, but if I missed a spot … well, he’d tell his dad and I’d lose my job.’ ‘Thank you,’ Fiona whispered. John’s warning made her feel uneasy, but not as uncomfortable as she felt carrying the last Ratter into his new home. She put the cage down gently behind the other eight in the middle of the cold damp floor. The cupboard, as Mr Frost had called it, was a room no bigger than her own living room. A cat flap had been hastily installed in one wall. Battered cardboard boxes lined the outer walls around the far corner, bulging with paper and strewn with dirty, threadbare towels. John pulled the door closed. On the wall above the cardboard boxes, a small, frosted window let in just enough light to bathe the room in a soft blue glow. A dusty and long ago blown light bulb hung from the middle of the yellowing ceiling tiles on frayed cables. Too unsafe to be used. The air was stuffy and reeked of bleach and musty paper. Fiona felt a pang of guilt as she knelt and carefully peeled the blanket off the cage. When she opened it, Aldorholt Dream Dust licked his lips and shuffled backwards. And as she stood again and looked around, her eyes caught flashes of colourful fur and flickers of sadness in bright frightened eyes. She picked up the blanket and knocked lightly on the door. Glancing back at the cages on her way out, she whispered, ‘Good luck’. *
RATTERS Chapter 1 - The Meeting Box ‘GOODLUCK...’ The gentle voice of the female human lingered in his ears even after her footsteps had faded away. Dust curled himself up in the back of his trap. He felt alone. He’d never felt so alone. But as he closed his eyes, his exhausted senses tore at him, screaming that his feelings were wrong. He lifted his head and parted his jaws to taste the air, searching for whatever they were trying to tell him. Yearning for that one familiar scent in the fetid amalgam of smells around him. There. His skin tingled. His fur rose along his spine. Cats. He was surrounded by cats. Dust opened his eyes and peered out of his trap. He was inside a large box. There were other traps around his, softly illuminated by the blue glow of a small flat light. They were silent at first, but as he manoeuvred his ears, he heard breathing. He crept forward. Nearby, claws scraped against metal. Dust stopped and listened. His ears found more sounds. Panting, scratching, shuffling. He counted eight more traps scattered around his own, and there was a cat in each one. He took another step forward and opened his jaws to decipher their scents. The closest cat was a tom. His fear scent was strong and his breathing shallow. Frightened tom… Dust stepped out of his trap, stretched his neck, and sniffed. The frightened tom shuffled back and licked his lips. He tried to think of a word of comfort, but his thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice that came from behind him. ‘Who are you?’ Dust raised his tail and curled its tip in a friendly gesture. When he turned his head, he saw two cats watching him from the far side of the box. A brown tabby tom, much like himself, but with shorter fur, broader shoulders, and inquisitive deep yellow eyes. Behind the tom sat a small silver tabby she-cat, blinking slowly at him with curious bright grey eyes. Frightened tom. Brown tabby tom. Silver tabby she-cat… Dust memorised the cats as he dipped his head, ready to greet them. The brown tabby tom sniffed the air and without waiting for Dust’s reply, meowed, ‘All of you. Who are all of you?’ Dust sat down and looked around at the other traps. A heartbeat later, a bold sweet voice replied, ‘I’m Violet,’ and a tall and elegant she-cat stepped out of her trap and looked around. Her long grey fur shone silver in the blue glow of the flat light, and her gentle eyes were deep green. Frightened tom. Brown tabby tom. Silver tabby she-cat. Violet, grey she-cat… ‘Thank you, Violet,’ meowed the brown tabby tom, ‘I’m—' ‘VIOLET!’ Claws scrabbled on metal as a red she-cat, as tall and elegant as Violet, with eyes of brilliant green, thrashed her way out of her trap and gazed around, panting. ‘Violet! It’s Rose, Violet, where are you?’ Frightened tom. Brown tabby tom. Silver tabby she-cat. Violet, grey she-cat. Rose, red she-cat… ‘Rose?’ Violet curled her tail up and padded forward slowly, her green eyes widened as she scanned the box, ‘Rose? Is that you, I’m here, I’m over here.’ Rose leapt forward, her fluffy red tail streaming out behind her as she shoved traps aside in her rush to get to Violet. Dust felt a shudder of warmth wash through him as he watched the she-cats entwine their tails and greet each other with happy purrs and delighted chirps. ‘Violet, it’s you!’ ‘Oh, my goodness, Rose. Yes, it’s me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I was so scared when they took me … I … I thought I’d …’ ‘I won’t let them take you again,’ Rose growled. ‘And you are?’ the brown tabby tom meowed as he flicked his tail towards the red she-cat. Rose lifted her head from Violet’s neck, her brilliant green eyes went wide as she turned to glare at the tom, and holding his gaze unflinchingly, she growled, ‘I am Rose, and Violet is my sister.’ The brown tabby tom held Rose’s gaze, ‘Sisters, good, I’m happy for you.’ Rose hissed and swished her tail. ‘Rose,’ Violet mewed softly, ‘I’ve missed you. We have much to catch up on, come with me.’ Rose looked back at her sister and nodded. Dust let out his breath as Violet draped her tail over Rose’s back and led her to the end of a stack of full boxes. Other cats shifted in their traps. The brown tabby tom watched the sisters move away, then flicked his tail again, ‘Okay, so who are the rest of you?’ ‘Who wants to know?’ a she-cat mewed tartly from the far corner. Dust watched as a smooth furred black she-cat with curled ears, deep blue eyes, and a long thick tail stepped gracefully between the traps. He dipped his head as she passed him, and she flicked an ear in reply. The brown tabby tom twitched his whiskers and waited for the black she-cat to sit down in front of him and shuffle herself comfortable. Then he mewed, ‘I am Briar.’ The black she-cat dipped her head, ‘I am Onyx, it’s lovely to meet you, Briar. Are you in charge?’ Frightened tom. Briar, brown tabby tom. Silver tabby she-cat. Violet, grey she-cat. Rose, red she-cat. Onyx, black she-cat… Briar sniffed, ‘I was the first to arrive and I’ve already explored this box.’ ‘And what did you find?’ Onyx purred. Briar lifted his head and flicked his ears around the box, ‘There’s a door where the humans come in, and a flap over there. There’s water, but no food, and litters, and those full boxes.’ Dust sat down and let his eyes follow Briar’s ears around the box. The transparent flap near the grubby green door looked clean and new. The row of stacked full boxes that clustered around a corner looked old and dirty, they were strewn with equally old and tatty covers. Above them, a rectangular flat light glowed bright blue. In the opposite corner, a fresh and full water bowl sat on the floor, and above it, high up on the wall, a little red light flickered from inside a small black box. There was no food by the water bowl yet, but that didn’t surprise him. The litters at the end of the full boxes were familiar and unused. The floor was hard and cold, covered in human footprints and it seeped the same sour damp smell as the trap covers. The roof was made of yellowish-white squares, set into tarnished grey lines. A large drip light hung from its centre, like the ones in the Old Place, except this this one was crusted with dirt. Dust looked at Briar and twitched his whiskers, He hasn’t explored… he hasn’t been out of his trap… ‘Anything else?’ Onyx mewed. ‘The female human with red head fur and green covers said “Goodluck”,’ Briar hung his head and shook it sorrowfully, ‘It means goodbye. I don’t think they’ll be coming back.’ ‘Well, it’s a good job that you’re in charge then, Briar,’ Onyx flicked him playfully with her tail, ‘I never listen to human words … I only watch their eyes.’ Briar snorted, ‘Well, I’m not—’ ‘They’ll bring food when we catch the Ratbots.’ A deep friendly meow interrupted Briar. Dust looked around to see a large tom with long black fur, a thick mane, tufted ears, and bright amber eyes stride boldly across the floor. He sat down next to Onyx and dipped his head to Briar. Briar nodded, ‘I haven’t seen a Ratbot yet, and I’ve been here a while now.’ ‘So, who are you?’ Onyx curled her tail as she looked the black tom up and down, ‘Briar wants to know.’ The black tom purred, ‘Tell Briar that I am Conker, and ask him why he needs to know.’ Onyx nodded to Conker, then looked at Briar. Frightened tom. Briar, brown tabby tom. Silver tabby she-cat. Violet, grey she-cat. Rose, red she-cat. Onyx, black she-cat. Conker, black tom… Briar raised his head, ‘I was put in a trap and bought to this box. It’s different to the other boxes I’ve known, and it’s strange that we are all here together. But we don’t need to be strangers.’ ‘We’re not strangers, we are sisters,’ Rose hissed. Violet purred reassuringly to calm her. ‘You are,’ Briar continued, ‘but I don’t see my littermates. And maybe no other cat here will either. My point is that, as we are all in this … Meeting Box together, it’s in our best interests to get along.’ ‘He’s right,’ Onyx mewed, ‘let’s all be friends.’ Dust felt the cats around him relax, their fear scent began to soften, and as he looked from Briar to Onyx to Conker and then over to Rose and Violet beside the full boxes, he saw fur flatten and tails curl as curiosity replaced anxiety. ‘I agree,’ Conker sat up tall and looked around, ‘So who’s left that we haven’t met yet?’ Dust rose to his paws, ready to step forward and introduce himself, but he hesitated as the frightened tom sniffed. He peered through the small holes in the side of the trap and saw a tuft of trembling white fur. ‘Hi! I’m Spinney.’ A slender orange and white tom with green eyes and a stripy tail leapt over a trap and slid to a halt just before he barrelled into Conker. Frightened white tom. Briar, brown tabby tom. Silver tabby she-cat. Violet, grey she-cat. Rose, red she-cat. Onyx, black she-cat. Conker, black tom. Spinney, orange and white tom… ‘Sorry, I was asleep, did I miss anything?’ Spinney purred as he dipped his head to Onyx, ignoring the toms sat either side of her. ‘Everything, Spinney,’ purred Onyx, ‘I’ll fill you in later, we still have cats to meet. Dust padded slowly to the front of the white tom’s trap and mewed quietly, ‘Come on out, no cat here will hurt you.’ The tom shivered and backed away. ‘I’m Fern, pleased to meet you all,’ a sweet voice mewed from the other side of the box. Dust watched as a sleek tortoiseshell she-cat with pale yellow eyes and a long thin tail stepped daintily towards the group of cats. Frightened white tom. Briar, brown tabby tom. Violet, grey she-cat. Rose, red she-cat. Onyx, black she-cat. Conker, black tom. Spinney, orange and white tom. Fern, tortoiseshell she-cat… ‘Pleased to meet you, Fern,’ Conker dipped his head. ‘Good to meet you too,’ purred Onyx. ‘Hi, Fern,’ Spinney greeted her with a friendly nod. ‘So, who’s left?’ Briar looked at Dust. Dust caught Briar’s eye and nodded, then he flicked an ear to the trap beside him. ‘I’m Dust, but this tom here, he’s very scared … and I think he’s injured, I can smell blood.’ ‘Blood?’ Briar meowed loudly. ‘Can he get out of his trap?’ Conker mewed. ‘Let me help, I’ve helped injured cats before,’ Violet padded towards the tom’s trap. Rose followed but stopped a few paces back and sat down in front of the full boxes, her head low and her eyes trained on her sister. Dust moved to let Violet see into the trap. ‘Hey there,’ Violet purred, ‘don’t be afraid, we are all friends now, but we can’t all get in your trap to meet you, so you will have to come out.’ The white tom sighed, ‘Yes, you’re right.’ And with a grunt, he shuffled to his paws and stepped towards Violet. As he emerged from the trap, Dust could see that his gait was stiff and unsteady, and dried blood matted the long white fur on his hind leg. His big blue eyes were full of pain. ‘Come and sit with me and my sister. You need to stay warm if you’re injured, and I’ll look at your wound,’ Violet gave the tom’s ear a reassuring lick. ‘Thank you,’ the tom lifted his head, ‘My injury is my own fault. I tried to escape, and a human caught me by my leg … it hurts, but I should introduce myself first. My name is Gloworm, and my Mother Name is Maer’sik Kiru. Gloworm, white tom. Briar, brown tabby tom. Violet, grey she-cat. Rose, red she-cat. Onyx, black she-cat. Conker, black tom. Spinney, orange and white tom. Fern, tortoiseshell she-cat... Dust shook his head as he looked around the cats. He went through their names again, trying to remember, Gloworm, white. Briar, brown tabby. Violet, grey. Rose, red. Onyx, black. Conker, black. Spinney, orange and white. Fern, tortoiseshell. That was all of them, but he was sure there’d been another cat in the Meeting Box. *
Book Review by Ellaura Shoop Ratters by L J Craven This was an adventure-packed debut novel. I was hooked just by the description. I’m excited for the next book. I can’t wait to see the continuation and how these cats rebel against the humans. Dust, the protagonist, was an underdog leader who I enjoyed, but who I found myself really attached to and rooting for were the side characters. Rose, Violet, Conker, and Briar stole my heart and my interest right away. I can’t wait to learn more about their pasts and watch them grow as characters. The lore of this book was stunning. The recounting of the creation myth for this story made me shiver. I will admit that at the beginning of the story I found some of the cats’ terminology in how they described the building and rooms confusing but once I got used to it I really appreciated the feeling of being immersed in the cats’ world. I can’t wait to see what happens next! Ellaura Shoop - Author *
SPR Review - BETA READER RATTERS BY L.J. CRAVEN (Male – Early Thirties) A cleverly allegorical novel that weaves themes of power, subservience, and liberation in a pseudo-dystopian landscape populated by killer cats, RATTERS by L.J. Craven is a brilliant read. STORY Fascinating from the start, this ambitious novel exists within the minds and surprisingly complex relationships of a fresh batch of "ratters," large cats trained for a singular purpose - hunting and exterminating vermin. Taught to annihilate robotic rats, they are eventually shipped off to large commercial or residential areas to put their skills to use in the real world, a heady premise and one that is explored with nuance. There are definite echoes of ANIMAL FARM, in the somewhat dystopian design of the narrative setting, as well as WATERSHIP DOWN, with the anthropomorphized characters resembling humans in their desires and fears so completely that readers will forget the species of the protagonists. The humans are intriguingly positioned as the antagonists, but even within that clear binary, the story is pushed forward by Fiona and other more complicated characters who empathize with these isolated creatures. One would expect the rats to be the natural enemies of the "bloodthirsty" cats, but they are depicted as three-dimensional figures in and of themselves, organized beyond what most readers would initially assume. That is perhaps the most notable aspect of the style; Craven plays elegantly with our ideas of preconception, judgment, assumption, leadership, and surprise. WRITING STYLE The author is able to establish intriguing dynamics and hierarchies quite easily among the nine cats, and the rich personalities of Dust, Violet, Rose, and Gloworm are particularly memorable. As these feline protagonists gradually explore their new world, they also explore their own sense of identity, as orphans, servants, assets, and killers. They are deeply animalistic, but also communal and nuanced, with long memories, clever strategies, and abstract emotions of revenge, love, and revolution. These are complex ideas that are couched in writing that is fable-like and geared towards younger readers, in the vein of the great animal stories. It's hard not to invest within the first few chapters, and the climatic rise of the story - towards escape and unexpected heroism - is undeniably exciting and appealing. DIALOGUE Determining the manner in which a speech-enabled species communicates is a daunting task for a writer, but Craven nails it in this novel. The dialogue between feline characters is purposeful, directional, and simple, without the frills and additional bits of language humans implement for context and tone. That conscious and consistent choice alone makes for interesting reading, as though readers are experiencing a stripped-down alien language for the first time. The intention of the dialogue is reflected well in the narration, which is rarely flowery, embodying the curt certainty of Hemingway. EDITING The vast majority of the prose is polished and well-picked clean of errors, though there are occasional slips ("im" instead of "I'm") that a final proofread should have caught. Some of the procedural elements of exposition/narration are a bit unnecessary, especially descriptions of physical space that can slow down the pace of a given scene. Also, despite the map at the beginning of the book, as more and more boxes are added to this world, it can become difficult to remember the significance of each, let alone their physical placement in space. That said, adequately editing a novel of this calibre is ambitious in itself, so generally, the book is impressively easy to read and access. MARKETABILITY Given the accessibility of the story, and the implications of the narrative and thematic explorations, the marketability of this book should be high. The book is instantly engaging, cleanly edited, and able to be appreciated on multiple levels. Though some of the subject matter is darker and more serious, it is not too childish for adult readers looking for an escape, nor too mature for YA readers dipping their toes into speculative or culturally commentative fiction. CONCLUSIONS 1. Aside from some minor contextual confusion and pacing issues in some places, there is not a lot to criticize here, as this is an immersive thrill that pulls readers in quickly and never lets go. 2. Blurring the line between playful parable and dystopian allegory, while giving its feline leads authentic personalities, rather than monolithic roles, Craven entertains and educates in one fell swish of the pen. Questions: editor@selfpublishingreview.com *
CONKER'S SIGN Ghosts of Shady Ly - Novella
Set in the RATTERS timeline
Conker wasn’t ready to escape when the slide down door slammed shut on the Moving Box. He’d left someone behind. He needed to go back.
…After a quick scout around The Outside!
But when he stops to help a strange little tom cat, Conker missies his chance to get back in the Moving Box. Now his only hope of returning to The Boxes depends upon solving the little tom's perplexing riddles.
Guided by The Warden of Trials, and helped on his way by a farm dog called Winter and hapless group of Hill Cats called the Glaring of Ghosts, Conker ventures deep into the dark and deadly depths of The Outside, questioning the meaning of freedom, as he tries to find his way back to his human captors.
Conker's Sign Chapter One - The Outside ‘CONKER! GET OUT.’ Conker dismissed Dust’s warning with a flick of an ear, ‘Wait … I can see it!’ A long thin tail quivered in front of him. He stopped, held his breath, and listened. Tiny claws scraped the cold metal floor. He leant closer until he could see the rat’s white rump. There you are… He lifted a paw. Suddenly, a rhythmic clanging sound began echoing around the Vast Tower Box. Conker put his paw down and pricked his ears. The sound was coming from behind him. It didn’t get closer. The rat didn’t react. Nothing to worry about… He flattened his ears and bunched his quarters, ready to leap, but before he could lift a forepaw, another sound distracted him. Footsteps…? ‘Dontyougetnearmytruck, cat, gohuntsomewhereelse.’ ‘Conker, leave it! Get out of there!’ Conker flicked his ears to Dust. ‘Just a human,’ he purred as he fixed his eyes on the rat’s tail. ‘Watch me,’ Dust mewed, ‘That’s right human, keep your eyes on me…’ Then the tabby tom yowled, ‘I’VE GOT HIS ATTENTION, CONKER, GET OUT!’ Conker leapt for the rat, but just before he landed, it whipped its tail away and vanished into a gap between the full boxes. Conker swiped for it, missed, and stumbled onto the floor. Hissing with frustration, he got to his paws and pushed through the gap. The clanging quickened, and a dark shadow fell over the full boxes around him. ‘CONKER! HURRY!’ With a sigh, Conker mewed to Dust, ‘I lost it! I’m coming out.’ He turned and wriggled back through the gap as fast as he could, but it was too narrow for him to make it out before the last of the light vanished with a thump that rocked the floor. The clanging stopped. ‘Dust…? What’s happening?’ There was no reply. A rolling gravelly purr vibrated through the floor. ‘Dust…?’ Conker steadied himself as the full boxes on either side of him began to shudder and sway. A knot of dread gripped his stomach. He’d felt this before, the day he’d come to The Boxes. His skin prickled as the realisation dawned on him. This box is moving… It’s going somewhere, with me in it… It’s a Moving Box… Conker pressed his paws firmly to the floor as it bumped and rocked. He let his body move with the swaying motion, first one way, then the other, as if he was racing around corners. Then the Moving Box lurched to a stop, making the full boxes around him shift and creak. He caught his breath, expecting them to fall. But they didn’t, and as the Moving Box rocked steadily on again, its motion softened. Conker let out his breath, relaxed into its gentle rolling sway and listened as its growl quietened to a soothing rhythmic hum. When he was sure he could walk without falling, he took a wary step forward. He could see little in the darkness and hear nothing above the relentless hum of the Moving Box. He sniffed the air. It was filling fast with a choking acrid stench, but beneath the stench, he could still detect the stale scent of the white rumped rat. Is it still here…? Flicking out his whiskers, he followed the scent until he found the bottom of the full boxes, and from there, he followed the scent across the floor towards the entrance. There was no way out now, just a long line of dull grey light where the rat’s scent ended. He sniffed along the line. Uplifting scents flowed gently across it, just as they had done from beneath the Blue Door. This is a door…? He looked up and despite the darkness, he was just able to make out the edges of a large square, about the same size and shape as the square that had been high on the wall of the Vast Tower Box. The door closed…? With a sigh he slumped onto his belly. The rat got out… Wherever I’m going, I’m going without food… Conker rested his head on his paws. Hunger gnawed at his belly, but tiredness gripped him tighter. As he yawned, his mind filled with the memory of the hunt. Was Dust badly injured…? Did Rose catch any rats…? He felt his eyes grow heavy. Will Fern be okay without me…? And as he slowly drifted into sleep, he wondered, Will I ever see her again…? * The Moving Box lurched to a stop. Conker shook the sleep from his mind and blinked open his eyes. Full boxes creaked in the darkness above him and the metal floor beneath him felt warm. The air was thick with the acrid stench. It overpowered all other scents and cut deep into the back of his throat. As he raised his head and looked around, the rhythmic clanking sound returned, and as it quickened, the line of dull grey light along the floor widened and cast aside the darkness with a bright hazy glow. Conker got to his paws and stepped back as the light washed over the full boxes and softened around him. His eyes caught movement. The door was sliding up. Then the air moved. Conker felt his skin tingle as moving air flooded in around him. He lifted his head high and parted his jaws as the cool air rifled through his fur and over his tongue, washing away the foul acrid stench of the Moving Box. He closed his eyes to taste the uplifting scents and flicked his ears to capture the strange sounds that it carried. Rustling, whistling, creaking… More footsteps…? Conker closed his mouth, opened his eyes, and slipped back behind the full boxes. He crouched and listened as the footsteps drew near. ‘Right, whathaveigottohideforyouthistimemisterfrost,’ A human voice grumbled. It’s the same human… am I still in The Boxes…? Conker peered out from behind the full boxes. In the bright hazy light, he could see the top half of a male human in grey covers. Beyond him, shapes and colours merged into a fuzzy backdrop that shifted whenever the moving air pressed on his eyes. It doesn’t look like it… The full boxes in front of him began to slide forward. Conker turned and pushed through the narrow gap where the white rumped rat had been. He could still smell its stale scent as he crouched down between the last row of full boxes and the cold metallic wall behind them. The Grey Male sniffed. I need to move… The soft hazy light brightened, then paled to a gloomy blue as the Grey Male pulled more full boxes away and leant into the Moving Box. ‘Ohno… whatareyoudoinginherekitty cat.’ I need to move… Conker narrowed his eyes as he looked up over the Grey Male’s head. The door had rolled up above the entrance, leaving a vast open hole into an unknown world. To one side, he could see a tall grey wall with a dark floor running along the bottom of it. It looked like the inside of the Vast Tower Box, but the angles were wrong. It looked inside out. Conker blinked and turned his head. To the other side, the floor was mottled light brown with dark patches, scattered with several soft mounds that could have been crumpled full boxes. Surrounding the brown floor was an expanse of undulating green, that shimmered and swayed as it ascended into the quavering blue-grey walls. The roof rolled and rippled like soft shadowy heaps that reminded him of a cat’s underbelly fur. A gigantic cat. Conker blinked. A cat that was gazing down at him warmly with one huge and blindingly bright yellow eye. Conker flinched as the Grey Male’s hand brushed his whiskers. I need to move… ‘Comeherelad.’ The Grey Male’s face wrinkled as it smiled around his bright green eyes, and he made a little clicking sound as he leant further into the Moving Box. He’s slow… Conker rocked back on his haunches and with a quick glance at the mottled brown floor, he leapt. As he planted his paws on the Grey Male’s hairless head, he fixed his gaze on the floor and jumped down. The Grey Male grunted and raised his arms. Too slow, human… Conker braced himself to land, but his paws didn’t find the floor. Terror gripped him as he fell. He flicked his tail to twist his body, preparing to land, but he couldn’t work out how far away the floor was. He flicked his tail again and twisted too much this time. The floor was suddenly there, and he jarred his legs as he slammed into it and stumbled heavily onto his shoulder. ‘holdonthereladcometoamos…’ The Grey Male grunted as he turned. Conker pushed himself onto his paws, wincing as his bumped shoulder took his weight. When he lifted his head to look around, panic shuddered through him as his brain lost all sense of what he was seeing. He tried to focus on the mottled brown floor, but it crumbled into dusty clumps before his eyes, like litter that had been kicked across the floor, it darkened in the waterlogged patches. The dark floor that ran like a path around the inside out grey wall was smooth and solid looking, despite being heaped with broken and torn full boxes. Conker studied it with narrowed eyes, searching for something … anything … that he could focus on. ‘Thatsitstaystilllad....’ There…! A rolling trap, identical to the ones in the Cold Box, leant against the grey wall. There was a gap underneath it. ‘Steady … cometoamoslad…’ Conker felt a hand brush his tail as he bounded forward and slid into the gap. The Grey Male stumbled on the litter floor and into a patch of water, landing on his hands. Mumbling angrily, he quickly got to his feet again, wiped the dirty water all over his covers, and strode towards the rolling trap. Conker pressed himself against the inside out grey wall as the Grey Male knelt and thrust his hand into the gap. I need to move… He stepped back and felt the familiar soft edge of a full box. He looked round to see a pile of them, damp, crumpled, and piled against the wall. He edged back into them and folded himself into their shadows. ‘Youcantstayundertherelad,’ The Grey Male sniffed as he stood up and pulled the rolling trap away from the wall. Conker slipped further back into the shadows of the crumpled full boxes. As he felt his eyes relax in the darkness, he carefully turned and peered out at the world beyond them. The quavering blue-grey wall had darkened into a deep indigo and the underbelly roof had dipped lower, brushing the top edges of the wall with mounds of soft shifting fur. The gigantic cat had half closed its watchful yellow eye. Without its blinding glare, he could make more sense of his surroundings. Around the edge of the brown litter floor, undulating green tendrils swished and swayed softly as they ascended like a mound of tatty covers into the distant walls. At the top of the mound, a tall dark structure stood proud on a single gnarled leg, human like, with countless tangled arms that clawed at the billowing underbelly of the giant glaring cat. Conker tipped his head. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the dark structure was. It moved, yet it didn’t, and in its stillness, it beckoned to him. ‘Youcommingoutoftherelad,’ the Grey Male’s feet sploshed through another water filled hole as he strode back from the rolling trap and began tugging at the crumpled full boxes. Conker backed out of the shadows and padded along the inside out grey wall. He kept his ears on the Grey Male and his eyes on the cool dark floor in front of him as he headed for the edge of the undulating green. It was closer than he’d thought, and as he stopped and sat at the edge of the brown litter floor, he could see the movement of each delicate tendril, mirroring his own long fur as they tussled and swayed in the fast-moving air. ‘Comeonlad…’ As the frustrated Grey Male began ripping apart the pile of crumpled full boxes, Conker put a paw on the brown litter floor. He closed his eyes, lifted his chin, and let the moving air wash around his face as he listened to its gentle swooshing and whispering. This must be The Outside … I’m in The Outside… I’m free… a wave of joy shuddered through him. ‘Whereareyou…’ He opened his eyes again and stared at the tall structure. It wasn’t far away. Humans were slow. If he was quick, he could scout it and get back into the Moving Box before the Grey Male had finished looking for him. He raised his head as he took a step forward, and sniffed the moving air, relishing how it enlivened him as it flowed through his fur. ‘Heyohnoyoudontkitty cat…’ I need to move… Conker let the air pull him forwards and push him onwards towards the tall structure. Its bracing freshness strengthened him, washed away his fear and powered up his paws. He walked slowly at first, apprehensive of his first steps, but his pace hastened with every uplifting breath, until he was trotting, then running over the brown litter and into the soft green waves of the undulating green. ‘Ohno … thereyougo, thereyougo … goodbyekitty cat.’ The swaying tendrils felt cool around his legs. He pricked his ears and let them follow the sounds of The Outside. A cacophony of unfamiliar noises whistled and waltzed around him. He leapt towards them and bounded up the slope. Move… The air lifted his fur and moved him on, faster and faster, over the green and up towards the tall structure. He’d never run so fast, never stretched his muscles so far. Move… He raced on, his paws thrumming the tangled floor until it gave way to a soft dusty brown. Then the air softened, slowing him gently and bringing him to a stop in the shadow of the tall structure. A fierce rustling, silent but deafening, lent a constant background to eerie creaks and groans as he stepped cautiously towards its one gnarly leg. Ceaseless chirrups and cheeps echoed melodically from every corner of the blue grey walls. He let his ears follow the sounds, trying to make sense of the overlapping, wrangling tunes. Digging his claws deep into the dusty brown floor, Conker looked up into the countless wavering arms of the tall structure above him. As he watched, mesmerised by their movement, a drop of water fell onto his nose. He gasped, then licked it away. Then another fell onto his back, making him shiver from head to tail. He tasted the air again. A myriad of uplifting scents grazed his tongue. He recognised none of them, but he savoured them all. The Outside…! With a deep sigh, Conker slumped down at the foot of the tall structure. He rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes. He was hungry and exhausted, but he purred, letting his breathing slow as he listened to the sounds cavorting around him … the swooshing of the moving air … the rustling of the tall structure’s arms … the crunching of dusty floor close by… he flicked an ear. Paw steps…? Then a voice. ‘Don’t … move!’ *