Tuesday, October 2, 2012

October Flash Fiction #3

by
Leila Smith

     My old master has moved into his new home now.  I still don’t know why he didn’t move me in with him. I’m a very good mouser and have always waited patiently for him when he came home at night, ready to start purring and rubbing his leg for attention.   People called him Stan and he liked to listen to his old beat up radio in the kitchen.  About two months ago, he was listening to some silly man say that our land is doomed and that all ‘true patriots’ need to go underground to save their lives and liberties. Master soon spent all his time listening to that man on the radio and decided to make a special house in our backfield to live in.  It’s underground and has locks on the inside and it locks from the outside with a sliding bolt.  He put all kinds of food and water in it and his special toys that he calls guns.  Master uses those to hunt for food and once he gave a little bite of meat to me. It was so good!  Maybe he was going to use his toys to give me some more since he didn’t put any of my special food in his new house.

       Master also quit petting me and kept putting me outside, where I got fleas.  According to him, I would cost too much to keep alive once our country collapsed. He even told the neighbors he was moving away so no one would come to his special house for help. I still tried to be good though and kept bringing him presents but he would stomp his foot and run me off.  I guess he didn’t like field mice in his boots. On the morning I ran out of my food, he got upset at something the man from the radio said and decided to go to his new house that day. He said that the end was coming and everyone was on their own now. I didn’t like how he was looking at me when he said that.
       All that afternoon, he was moving his clothes and more food and water to his special home.  Master kept rambling on about how it was all going to the pits and at least he’ll survive the government takeover.  I didn’t know what he was talking about and kept trying to get his attention.  Rubbing his legs and purring wouldn’t work, he just glared and stomped his foot at me. When Master was going into his new home, he kept pushing me away when I tried to follow him.  Why? What did I do wrong? I must have done something to make him mad; he threw a rock at me when I almost got inside.  I just wanted to be with him. When I cried after the rock hit me, he just shoved me out of the way and shut the door to his new house. I tried to cry some more to let him know he forgot me, but I guess he didn’t hear me. 
       Crying for several hours until my throat was gritty with pain; I kept pawing at the door until my paws bled.  Why would Master just leave me here when I loved him so?  Wait! I could see the sliding bolt on his door! Maybe I could open the door that way and master would  be good to me again.  My bloodied paws had gotten cold since the bolt and the door were metal but I did manage to get the bolt in its little holes. Master heard the bolt slide across the door and started to scream at me to stop so I cried in response for him to open the door.  He rattled the metal door and screamed some more but we were so far out in the field that there were no neighbors around.  Bang! Bang! Master had brought one of his toys out and tried to bust the door open! It was made of something he called bulletproof so the door still wouldn’t open though.  All night, Master kept rattling the door, but his voice kept getting hoarser.  Maybe he was getting thirsty like I was.  I pawed again at the door, but it wouldn’t budge.  Since I could do nothing more, I curled up outside the door and went to sleep, shivering in the cold.
       I was getting weaker and was in pain but didn’t want to leave master behind. Eventually, I had no choice.  Staggering weakly from thirst and hunger, the neighbors down the road scooped me up when I wondered into their yard.  With loving pets and all kinds of yummy table scraps, I began to feel better and my back didn’t hurt so much from the rock that hit me.  Their little girl even let me lie next to her when she went to sleep.  The next day her Momma took me to a doctor to check my back and get rid of the fleas I had.  Since I had no collar, the doctor gave me a bunch of shots and a new tag for the nice woman to make me wear. If master doesn’t come get me, I think I’ll stay with them!  However, after a week had passed, I did try to get back to master. I would cry for him to answer me when I visited, but he would just hoarsely start sobbing and rattle the door more.  After that, I quit going to his special home when I started smelling the bad smell.
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Leila Smith lives in Tennessee with her feline muse and enjoys reading, creative writing, and music listening. She loves writing unusual stories with a sci-fi or supernatural theme, but hopes to write various kinds of genres. One day she would love to be published too, once she lights a match under her butt and actually finishes something. Happy Writing!

11 comments:

  1. What a frightening, sad story. Poor kitty. You certainly have captured the essence of cat in this story. Good work!

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  2. Awesome story, Leila. I love stories with a happy ending. A happy ending for the cat anyway :)

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  3. Thanks Mysti, for putting my story up, and thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews and comments! Happy Writing!!!!

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  4. Poor kitty. Glad he found a happy ending.

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  5. Great story Leila.

    Had tears for the kitty.

    I'm a cat lover.

    Lori

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  6. Leila, nice little cautionary tale. It worked out well for the kitten.

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  7. Michael B FletcherOctober 3, 2012 at 5:02 AM

    Interesting cat pov. Really puts you in with the cat's mind.

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  8. Still can't get the crazy font to be consistent. Grrr...

    But, still a great story. Thanks for all the comments, everyone!

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  9. I've had that problem on my blog before. Sometimes I have to cut the text out and paste it into a plain text editor, then copy and paste it back into the post.

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