Ghost Cat

Every body has a story. Some are never told.
And some were scarcely lived.

Most animals, cats included, have precious time
to squander, yet spend exorbitant amounts in
a state of Sleep, combined with High Alert —
because life can be a precarious place. We cats
have mastered pretending to doze, cracking
peeps at the slightest movement or sound …
which isn't actually that restful.

I'm not sure how or where or even why the idea
began about nine lives. We only have one …
the same as you.

My single exclusive existence was terminated
early, in my third year. I was grown, but still
young enough to not know better. And that
brings us to my body. My story too.

It needs to be told. A cautionary tale about
Curiosity. You see, that old saying is true!

I was deliberately lured, by an obsessed fiend
allergic to Dander, who bears a mean diabolic
vendetta for all things Feline — even Catnip
and Catnaps. Staging a heinous plot to target
our community, the guy laid a trap I couldn't
resist.

The heavy snoozer and sneezer claimed
to be hosting a Cat Slumber Party …

What self-indulgent kitty wouldn't jump
at the chance? Go a little gaga over the
promise of a nice spot to groom — enjoy
a Purrfest — catch a few winks?

I would not be worth my whiskers if
I didn't check it out! Enticing inviting
auspices pointed the way. (Really just
Flyers attached to poles, fences, along
pavement.) I was too easily convinced.

He had me at Treats, Scratching Posts,
and soft furniture. Vividly displayed
on the Brochure: papers scattered to
the wind to land on the ground (why
they're called Flyers).

Being far nosier than the average puss,
and more eager than most to snoop —
I darted right in without hesitation …
All of those signs, tempting images
couldn't be wrong. My rash behavior
lacked appropriate discretion; a cat's
customary built-in suspicious disdain.

The tendency to watch first, approach
gingerly, then act completely indifferent.

I was always fast on my feet, but very
slow to escape the creepy clutches of
Deke Moss, Canary Town Cat-Killer.
The lowest form of Human. Now I'm
a ghost of my former confidence.

I never meant for the lady who left snacks,
morsels and water outside to amble after
as she attempted to coax me into staying!
I wish I did. The streets aren't safe with
bad people about. They can be worse
than Mad Dogs. Yet I was so proud of
my independence.

Lana called me Grim, short for Grimalkin.
Something to do with being a gray female.
I had a home if I wanted one, unlike many
who didn't drop their guard, however hungry
or desperate. I had no excuse. And I led her
straight to him. You see, he didn't just kill
cats.

The entrance was ajar. "This is odd," I heard
my ladyfriend mutter. She asked at the door
"Hello? Anyone home?" Stepping inside:
"Did you see a gray cat —" This is when he
had her, like he had me, pouncing. Snatched
in dirty blankets, punched and hauled down
the stairs to his cellar.

He didn't care for Cat-Lovers either.

Lori R. Lopez is a peculiar author, poet, illustrator, and wearer of hats. Verse and stories have appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies including The Sirens Call, Spectral Realms, Weirdbook, The Horror Zine, Space & Time, HWA Poetry Showcases, JOURN-E, Impspired, Aphelion, Altered Reality, Dead Harvest, and California Screamin' (Foreword Poem). Books include The Dark Mister Snark, Leery Lane, An Ill Wind Blows, The Witchhunt, The Fairy Fly, and Darkverse: The Shadow Hours (nominated for an Elgin Award). Some of Lori's poems have been nominated for Rhysling Awards. You can learn more about her at the website shared with two talented sons: https://www.fairyflyentertainment.com

Find more by Lori R. Lopez in the Author Index.