the cat

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***

The day is slowly trickling off. The sun rests on the rooftop, its orange bleeds out, reaching over the sky. Beyond the edges of the buildings on the other street side. Trees nearby rustle, as the wind picks up.

A black cat sits on top of an old brick wall surrounding a garden. It can be easily confused with a statue in the dusk. If it isn’t for those flashing yellow eyes. Horse chestnut tree branches stretch over the mural’s top, slowly waving in the evening wind. They shade the most of the wall, even with the streetlight flickering on nearby.

The cat stares into the street, tail twitching. “You are not welcome!” A silhouette detaches from the darkness of the corner of the building across the street. It moves closer. Consisting of solid blackness, it swirls to the wall, eyes lit like glow wire.  The shadow gutters and growls inarticulately. Its voice resembles the scattering of dead leaf over a dry road, or gravel under shoes.

The figure drifts through the wall onto the other side into the garden. The cat jumps down onto the grass. The shadow floats towards the house at the back of of the garden. The trees bows and sweep as if under great weight, groaning and creaking.

The cat hisses. „No!“ It runs up to the house, putting itself between the thing and the entrance door, its claws out, tail twitching.

„Don’t interfere.“ The breeze drops the words, slowly rolling them  down the tree branches. The dim glow in the eyes of the thing now blaze with anger. The wind  grows to a storm, swift gusts tearing at the trees and the roof of the  house. Clouds approach, stripping the stars from the sky, tearing the full moon apart. Cat’s fur stands on end, arching its back to a crescent shaped blur. Even the street lamps lose their power.

The shadow grows over the crown of the trees, clawing at the roof, ripping it apart. Broken old tiles rain down. The cat darts for the nearest tree, heading to the top. Like broken ribs from a carcass, the roof joists stab into the darkness. Setting an outrageous storm free, it’s beating wings hovering upon the garden.

 *

(…to be continued)

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