Monday, April 11, 2016

For the love of you

A short story based on a true story!
I don't normally write shorts, but I had a lot of inspiration for this one. I just typed this up and didn't go over it again, so please excuse any errors.



I'm not sure why I left my property. I'm normally very good about not trespassing. But tonight my feet are restless and adventure is in the wind.

I'm in no hurry and mosey away from my modest accommodations. That's what Dad calls them anyway. I would call our home a hovel. He says I should be grateful. That a lot of people don't even have a roof over their head. So I guess the fact that we just have a roof and no walls means I should be appreciative.

Yeah. Whatever Dad.

Tonight though I don't want to think about my "home" or the people that own our land--rotters seem to think letting us squat in their wall-less shed is sufficient payment for the work we do.

I pick up the pace to escape my thoughts. Across the empty field and into the small line of trees that border our property. Brush catches at me and I try not to think of the damage it's causing. No way Dad won't notice I've been out when he sees the state I return in.

The trees end and I stare up at the night sky. The moon is out and the sky is cloudless. It's the perfect night for sneaking. My feet hit the soft dirt driveway and I can almost hear them sigh in relief.

I walk up the driveway, keeping silent so as not to arouse the people who live in the tall white house. Just as I pass the curve in the driveway, a breeze hits my face, bringing with it a smell of--Woah-hoh!! WHO IS THAT??!

Oh my gosh! Has he seen me? I drop to the ground and peer through grass. There, on the porch bathed in radiant moonlight is the most regal man I've ever seen. His orange hair looks so soft as the breeze tickles it. I must get closer.

All of Dad's warnings about strange boys goes right out of my head. This boy is different. He's . . . he's . . . perfect.

On my belly, I inch my way up to the house. I get to the foot of the porch steps and stare. This close he's even more amazing. More handsome, more regal, more everything. I can't help myself, I forget stealth and rise to my feet and climb the steps.

My love is so close. No. Wait. Please, don't!

He's backing away from me like I'm plagued. I continue towards him, trying to look as beautiful as one can when they live in a wall-less barn and just trampled through a woods. Foul words that I dare not repeat come from his mouth. I start crying, trying not to let the hatefulness hurt me.

He yells louder and the porch light comes on. I hear feet inside and terror grips me. I flee.

As I cross the yard, I hear the door open and more yelling in my direction. The crazy looking woman hugs my love and assures him that he's safe. Of course he was safe! I would never hurt him!

The trees swallow me up and I slow down, shaking. I call myself every sort of fool and as I climb into the hay in our barn, I cry myself to sleep.

The next night I go back. I can't help it. My love's halo of orange fills my every waking moment and I must see him again.

He's on the porch again. I try to talk to him. Try to show him I mean no harm. He cusses at me and the crazy lady comes out again, though this time I refuse to leave until she comes out on the porch and screams at me while waving a broom.

I've never been so scared in my life. I try to leave, but she's blocked off the stairs. Idiot. How does she expect me to leave. I suppose you can't expect crazy people to be rational. In desperation, I climb over the railing and jump to the ground. I managed to bump my head on a post in my hurry, but at least I'm safe.

I go back again. And again. And again.

Eventually my love yells less and stops insulting my mother, and the psycho lady starts telling him that I'm not doing anything and to stop being whiny. I hate her for calling him whiny, but at least she FINALLY figured out that I'm not out to get him.

I start visiting during the day. I follow my love everywhere. I prefer to stay outside where it's quiet and no one bothers us. My love's sister comes out occasionally but I have no interest in her. She certainly didn't get my love's good looks or his regal bearing.

Dad notices something different about me, but can see how happy I am, so he doesn't push me.

One day I race over to my love's house and he's not outside. I look everywhere. All of our favorite places are empty. Something must be wrong. He's missing and must be sick. No dying! I gasp. No please don't let him be dead.

I start crying on the porch steps, unable to stop my miserable thoughts.

The door opens and Crazy Lady pokes her head out. "His girlfriend is back. Told you she really liked him." I'm not sure who she's talking to, but then, she's crazy. Probably talking to herself.

She looks to me. "Sorry missy. He's not coming back." The door shuts.

Not coming back? What does that mean? Why!! Why isn't he coming back? At least she didn't say he was dead. I must remain calm.

I walk around to the other side of the house and climb up on the deck. The big glass door gives me a good view inside. My love sprawls on the couch, sleeping in peaceful bliss. I cry for him, but he doesn't wake. I press my face to the window and wait, but he just stretches and continues sleeping.

Darkness falls and my love awakes and walks into the kitchen without glancing at the window. I call for him, but he must not hear me. I return home.

For days I return to my love's house and call for him, peering in the windows. Dad notices my depression and finally forces me to talk. I tell him everything and after I shed more tears, he declares the only thing to be done is a feud.

Clearly, he says, the crazy lady is holding your love hostage and we must make her release him.

He leads the way across the property line, I follow reluctantly. It's hopeless. I just know my love is gone forever.

We stake out the driveway so no one can leave without going through us. It starts raining and we're soon soaked and shivering. Still no one leaves the house.

In a fit of tempter, Dad craps on the driveway just to spite the people holding my love captive. I'm dreadfully embarrassed. I know he's trying to help, but COME ON DAD!!! That's so GROSS!

It doesn't matter. Still no one leaves the house.

Eventually we return home.

I go back the next afternoon and sit by the big glass door. This time there's something different. A new girl is sitting in the room. She's younger than me, skinnier, and I can tell she's got that kind of hair people are just DYING to run their fingers through. I hate her. She's too pretty and she's in my love's house.

I can't stand it. I leave.

The next day she's there again. Only this time she's cuddling with my love. How dare she! Witch! Harlot! Boyfriend thief! I call her all sorts of foul names through the window as I pace.

They both hear me and stare at me like they have no clue why I'm upset, then go back to cuddling.

What sorcery is this? What has she done to him? He'd never betray me like this, not willingly.

Again I can't stand watching and leave.

In the days that follow I return, but only catch glimpses of "new girl". One of those times she comes right up to the window and smirks at me. I've ceased venting my rage and return her smirks with glares. I wish a thousand painful deaths on her.

Eventually I give up altogether. My cries fall on deaf ears. My feet weep from the endless pacing. Dad says I need to get on with my life. He says I'll forget "that boy" soon enough, that there are plenty of nice boys out there for me to meet.

I'm sure he's wrong. The love we had was unmatched. A candle in a dark universe.

I crawl into my bed of hay. Alone. I'll never forget his face or his name. Such a sweet name. Mer--Mer . . . well it's Mer something. Well, I'll never forget his face then. He looks like . . . like . . .

I whip my tail back and forth in agitation. So I can't remember his face either. But one can't expect a cat to recall things when she's CLEARLY depressed!

Dad pads in and plops next to me. He starts talking about some cute tom down the street, but I'm not interested and tune him out until I fall asleep.

The End!



Dedicated to the cat next door who inspired the crazy lady to write her story!

6 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Yay! Thanks! I don't do that many shorts, but this cat was amusing and every time she'd stop over I'd be like "there's a story here!"

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  2. Replies
    1. Thanks! I was wondering if that'd surprise anyone. I was kind of hoping to put a photo of her up, but I didn't take the chance when she was still coming over.

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  3. Love it! I thought it was probably a dog and a boy who then got a new dog till I got to the end :)

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, Elise! I was hoping it'd surprise people.

      We have the neighbor cat who simply adored Merlin. I thought she was harassing him at first because he threw a fit whenever she was over, but then it was like . . . she was just smitten.

      It was amusing to watch the whole thing play out over the weeks and she still stops by occasionally and sits right outside, like she's waiting for him.

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