This is a flash fiction story that I wrote for a competition. Unfortunately, the story didn’t get anywhere. I figured that it needn’t go to waste, so I’ll put it here. I wrote it from the perspective of a cat that my girlfriend and I used to own on the night that it got hit by a car and died. The cat that is…my girlfriend is fine.
I’d always enjoyed my late-night escapades and was always welcomed home with open arms, whenever I decided to return. She loved me and he loved her too much to kick me out, even if he never liked me. I could come and go as I pleased, at almost any hour, and they all just waited for me to come home. I had slipped out during the evening, among the clattering of boots on decking boards. It wasn’t uncommon. I was curious about whatever was going on up the hill. I had heard odd noises and interesting smells cascaded down to me. The nightly screeches of the foxes were terrifying and put me off more than once. But my inquisitive nature finally got the better of me. That night, the inky blackness surrounded me on all sides. I bundled through the flourishing hedgerows and crossed the reticent road. Strolling up the bends, I swung a left at the foot of the hill, prowling through the night. Rabbits, foxes and hedgehogs had all made their homes along here; all were quiet at this hour. I wasn’t interested in them; I was after the shrew. They were an easy catch, slow, blind and stupid. I could smell them, but I couldn’t find them, maybe for the best, she hated the fact I hunted. It made sense since she’s vegetarian, which I never understood. I decided to return home when my coat started to get cold, but I never made it back across the road, the speeding set of headlights that hit me made sure of that. Once I landed, that royal blue sky was the last thing I would ever see. They found me in the morning. Now, as my body feeds the worms, I look out over these fields, forever.
By Owen Coyne
Taken to the Corner 