It’s the last Friday of the month and you know what that means, it’s story time!
Despite having a couple of people telling me they were working on stories for this month’s prompt, my inbox remained empty. The stories don’t do me any good if you don’t send them to me people. :-D
When I first posted the prompt picture I had a great idea for a story, but of course by the time the deadline was looming, that idea was long gone. Still, I’m pretty happy with the story I came up with and I hope you enjoy it too.
A Cat’s Tale
The night was crisp and cold, one of those beautiful fall evenings that was perfect for walking in the park. The moon was full and hung low in the sky as a flock of geese honked, winging their way south.
“George, what have you done?”
George got up from where he’d been sitting patiently and started down the path. For some reason she felt compelled to follow.
“It’s not so bad, being dead, you know. But I’m kind of fuzzy on why I’m here.”
The cat ignored her, continuing forward at an unhurried pace.
“I want you to know, of all the things I’ve had to leave behind, you’re the one I miss the most. You were the smartest cat I’ve ever owned and the best familiar a witch could have.”
That earned her a flick of the tail.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you figured out a way to bring me back.”
Twitching an ear, George continued forward. They reached the edge of the park and the cat turned onto the sidewalk.
“I don’t suppose you could tell me where we’re going?”
George meowed at her but kept going.
“I didn’t think so,” she said, voice resigned.
The neighborhood they were passing through was one of the nicer ones. The houses weren’t huge, but there were nice sized lawns attached to them. Several of them had neatly kept gardens.
George turned up the sidewalk to a modest bungalow and led her around to the back.
“Is this why I’m here? You wanted to show me where you live now? I’m glad you found a nice home. I’m guessing the family who lives here is just as nice.”
Pausing, George looked back at her again and meowed.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you want.”
George pushed through the cat door to enter the house. Still compelled to follow, she passed easily through the door. Looking around curiously she realized she was in the kitchen.
A sharp meow brought her attention to George, sitting near a shallow alcove. She looked closer and realized this is where he was fed. Then she took a closer look at the dishes.
“Seriously? This is why you brought me back?”
George stared at her, giving her that look, the one he practically patented for when she stated the obvious.
“You know I’m dead, right?”
She waved her hand through the table beside her. “I’m incorporeal. I’m sorry your food dish is empty, but there’s no way I’m able to feed you.”
The disgruntled look on the cat’s face was almost comical.