From in the living room, I heard a crash as something clattered to the floor. I sighed.
My cat sauntered in to the bedroom and with a sadness in her eye born of a relentless and an unremitting boredom, for the first, last and only time in her life, spoke.
“Destruction,” she said.
* * *
New Orleans-based fantasy and science fiction author Brandon Black is the editor of the By Gaslight steampunk anthology series. He has a Bachelor’s in Military and Political Journalism and a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. His short fiction has appeared in Dark Oak Press’ Dreams of Steam III and Seventh Star Press’ A Chimerical World: Tales of the Seelie Court. Brandon has just published a short anthology of steampunk and gaslamp fiction short stories entitled Mechanical Tales and is working on completing his first novel, I Was A Teenage Air Pirate.
I am fading.
My eyes flutter closed.
She places a paw, gently, on my knee to wake me.
I open my eyes.
She yawns at me.
I nearly lose my shit.
“You woke me just to yawn at me!?”
I pet her.
She trots off.
What you have to understand is that the meowing you hear, isn’t personal. For there is a Prophecy. There is a Prophecy known to all cats that, regardless of how big the bowl is or how much food should still be in the bowl, if the bottom of the bowl should be seen by a cat for three days straight, it heralds the End of the World. Cats are taught the Prophecy as kittens and as modern, educated cats, they grow up and pretend not to believe. But they do. All cats believe in the Prophecy. So go swiftly human! Go forth to the place of Attainment and return with more cat food! Fill the bowls to brimming! It may not mean much to you but to a cat, it is like adding a few more days to the Mayan Calendar. It just can’t hurt.