I was walking down the street and I saw a cat in a tree. He sat there, smiling through green glass eyes, black as night, with diamonds sparkling round his throat. He spoke, trying to gain my understanding through a language I never knew. I wish I had. I wanted to listen, to help the trapped cat – afraid of heights and too stubborn to admit it. He kept calling, begging my assistance, so I dialed 911, but no one answered. I guess the world was full of real emergencies. Ones that didn’t involve me.
My heart lived in that tree, stuck there with that cat. I stared at him, he stared at me. I think an hour passed, or maybe only ten minutes. I glanced over the bark, its ridges telling a history I wasn’t old enough to remember. Only nineteen, only a girl, still caged in by the ideologies of my parents. My insides revolting against them, rotting away in silent cynicism. A breeze blew by, I didn’t notice, except my hair broke the contest. I lost, averting my eyes while trying to tame the fire flowing around me.
The tree, a species unknown to me, stood gloating at my folly, at my helplessness. Its leaves, the deep green of late summer, asked me to touch them, though I refrained, afraid to show my impropriety. Each one had a number, a name, a life separate from those around it, and their black master presided over them all. He wasn’t a captive, merely captivated. When the breeze threw one or two of his subjects in his face he swatted them away, punishing them for their forwardness. He stared down, haughty on his lofty throne. I was a bug, a mere inconvenience, nothing for the great king to trifle with. Hurt, I tuned and started to walk away.
He called again, this time louder than before, a plaintive cry – maybe he was trapped more than I thought. Maybe he wasn’t really in control. Maybe everything I thought was a lie.
I ran back, reaching for him and his glistening collar bones and he leapt, five feet between us. He flew like a raven, like a seal in water, straight towards me, determination and anger creasing his eyes. I was wrong.
He wanted to smother me. He wanted to steal my soul. I wasn’t ready to die. I closed my eyes and caught him by his jewels, a loud crack resounding with the fall. There was no cat. The bracelet rested on my finger, its owner missing.
I stood, staring at the gift in my palm, placing it tenderly on my wrist, letting it catch the mid-morning sunlight. Its brilliance blinded me. I smiled, then faltered. What did I do to deserve this? Why was such a precious gift entrusted to me? I glanced around, worried someone saw the exchange, paranoid of my jealous neighbors, particular the witch who lived in the house this tree belonged to. I had already stolen one of her possessions without her knowledge; I don’t think she’d bear the loss of two.
One of her little brats came outside and I felt the bile, so I ran. I ran hard. I don’t think she saw me, but she saw him, lying in the grass with his empty green eyes, cherry smeared lips, and barren neck. I heard the scream follow me down the road but I didn’t stop running. I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t stop.
