Praise for
Boredoom Found in the Margins
"The 2024 SHP Slam Poetry winner, Aspyn Chapin dazzles in this inventive and syntacticly engaging chapbook."
–Tyler Michael Jacobs, 5th year SHP Creative Writing Instructor
To those who are forever looking to cure their boredom.
Table of Contents
The Son and the Pear Tree
A Cat’s Nine Lives
Acknowledgements
The Son and the Pear Tree
Once upon a time, there was once a wealthy farmer who owned many fields, and he had a son. The son knew of his father’s wealth, and would often boast about it to everyone else, believing they all lay beneath him.
“Please sir,” an old, homeless man had begged to him one day, having heard of his family’s wealth, and hoping for a small share to help him get something to eat.
The son had knocked the old man away from him and spit on the ground before him. “Do not touch me with such filth!”
The farmer’s son was wicked and he acted like this towards everyone who looked like they couldn’t match their wealth to his. He was also equally wicked to animals, and his father even told him, with such cruelty, he would surely meet a horrible fate if he continued. It was one day, when the sun was still rising, that the son had been passing by one of his father’s fields, when he noticed a bird fledgling hobbling on the ground. As he stared at the helpless thing, he brought his foot back and kicked the creature as hard as he could with his steel-toe boot. The fledgling tumbled away from the son and laid in the dirt, a mangled heap of bones and skin, the farmer’s son laughed to himself and continued walking.
When the sun reached the middle of the sky in late afternoon, the son came across a rabbit with its hind leg caught in a snare. Without a second thought, he bent down and tightened the snare even more, so that it now cut through the animal’s flesh all the way, slicing off the creature’s leg. As he laughed to himself once again, he continued his walking.
By the time the sun began to set in the late evening, the son came across a cat with a plastic bag caught over its head. He bent down on one knee and pulled the plastic away from the cat, and once the creature’s head was free, it started to rub against the son’s leg. As quick as lightning, the farmer’s son grabbed the animal and hung it by its tail on a nearby lamp post. It struggled and screeched in pain, but the son only laughed to himself once again and continued walking.
When the sun had gone down completely, replaced by the full moon during midnight, the son had grown quite tired from the day’s walk and figured he should be headed home. As he turned to go back the way he came, he caught sight of a gorgeous lady near a large pear tree in the middle of one of his father’s fields. The moonlight seemed to reflect off her very being, her garments seemed to spill and flow off of her like fine silk. Overcome by the girl’s immense beauty, the son began to make his way over to her and met her gaze as he got closer.
She watched him come forth and once he was close enough to speak, he said every word his heart begged him to, “My fair lady, why is a maiden of such grace and beauty such as yourself, who’s gorgeousness makes even the goddess Aphrodite jealous at the sight of you, doing in my father’s field all by yourself?”
The young maiden smiled at the son’s words and gazed at him, “I thank you, for such kind words. I had just been strolling by when I noticed I was very hungry, and saw that there was a fine pear tree in this field. I simply thought I could come and grab one off the tree, but to my dismay, all the fruit-bearing branches are far from my reach.”
The son looked up at the tree’s branches and noticed that the fair maiden was correct, no ripe fruit was anywhere close to the ground. He then looked to the lady, her gaze pleading.
“Before I ask for your assistance, I must know, are you a kind man?” the woman asked him.
The son took a second to answer, contemplating on telling truth or not, “But of course, milady.” he decided to lie, “The kindest and most thoughtful,”
“Even to everyone else?” she questioned.
“Yes,” the son answered much quicker this time.
The lady smiled softly but seemed like she still wasn’t convinced, “Then, what about animals? Are you kind to them?”
Again, he chose to lie, “Anyone unkind to the Earth’s creatures shall face a terrible, fated death, and be judged by the gods,”
The girl nodded in agreement at his words, believing what he said about himself as true, and looked back up at the tree, “Since it seems you are a kind man indeed, I ask if you can get a pear for me?”
The son thought, he was a good climber, but the pear tree was tall and spindly. There was no telling if it would hold his weight, but the girl’s beauty outweighed all other thoughts.
“Of course, my fair and beautiful maiden,” he told her as he bowed his head slightly, and then at once he began to climb the tree, branch by branch, limb by limb.
As he reached the first few branches with fruit, he looked down at the lady, “One of these, perhaps?”
She shook her head, “Not those ones, those are not ripe enough,”
The farmer’s son nodded and continued climbing, despite the tree branches getting thinner. He reached the next couple branches with fruit, and he looked down at the lady, “Then what about these ones?”
She shook her head again, “Not those ones, those are not ripe enough,”
The son nodded once again and kept climbing, despite the tree’s branches getting even thinner. He reached the next couple branches with fruit, near the top of the tree, he looked down at the lady, “Then maybe one of these?” But what stood before him was no longer the beautiful maiden, but a horrendous and vicious-looking beast. “Where is the gorgeous lady that stood where you do a moment ago, foul beast?” shock apparent on his face.
The creature brought forth shadows the moon cast among the ground, the silhouetted shapes of a bird, rabbit, and feline scurried up the pear tree’s trunk, balancing perfectly on the branches surrounding the son.
“Fool, I am the fair maiden, but I also happen to be the beast that watches over and cares for other creatures. And you!” the beast bellowed, “are a scandalous threat that harms my beloved creatures on a daily basis,”
The son was frightened out of his wits, “That is ridiculous, for I could never!”
“Is that quite so,” the mass of shadows and creature cackled, “then why my dear fellow, do you brag about your family’s wealth to those less fortunate? Why do my poor animals come to me crying of a son of a farmer, who harmed them. Don’t you recognise the shapes of the shadows before you in that tree? Don’t you see how their pain is brought forth in full? Do you deny it?” As the beast finished talking, another shadow sprung forth, the old man the son had denied money for a meal standing beneath him and beside the creature, anguish painted on his shadowy silhouette.
The son whipped his head around in almost a full circle both ways, straining to see the silhouettes dancing around his head among the branches. Perhaps telling the truth now would save him. “I…I do not!” Fear had him shaking in place, the thin branches of the tree moving in motion with him.
The beast reared up and struck the earth near the base of the tree trunk, at the same time, a single bolt of lightning hit the tree’s base, lighting it ablaze. “You shall pay the consequence of your wrath to my poor creatures and the man, in full!” The beast gave what the son could only distinguish as a grim smile, “As you said, anyone unkind to Earth’s creatures shall face a terrible, fated death, and be judged by the gods,” and it slithered away, sinking into the shadows, the three animal shadows and the old man followed.
As the creature left to the darkness of the night, it said to the farmer’s son, “may they have mercy on your wicked soul,”
The unfortunate son was left stranded in the burning pear tree. It was then, as the red-tongued flames licked higher and higher, the son noticed the slightest creaking of the branch, and caught his very last look at the full moon as the branch snapped beneath his weight and brought him to his grim and chared fate.
A Cat’s Nine Lives
The rule of thumb for a cat’s nine lives is: for three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays. That’s what every kitten is told by their mother at least, giving their litters false hope of getting to live more than once. A terrible lie. A lie told for centuries on end, whether those believed it or not.
“I was told that as a young kitten, believing it with my whole heart.” The old cat had told her granddaughter.
“But, grandma,” Her daughter’s child cried with disappointment. “I thought all cats got nine lives. The rhyme goes–”
“I understand how the rhyme goes, but it’s completely false.”
The kitten looked at her paws and the old cat noticed how she shrunk at the words, how earlier she came to her elder seeking stories, not truth. “I apologize for getting off topic. I forgot you merely wanted a story.”
Her granddaughter looks up, excitement pushing any other thoughts away.
The old cat chuckled lightly and moved herself into a more comfortable position. “Alright, what story should I tell you?”
The kitten bounded up to her grandmother and rested her head on her own paws. “Tell me about you. I wanna hear about your life when you were younger.”
This took the old cat by surprise. Most days, she was asked to tell a story about a gallant knight by her grandsons, or a tale of a lost princess from her granddaughters. But the kitten who wanted one today, she had always been more insightful than the rest.
“I was a very reserved and observant kitten, like you. I would ponder over things that didn’t make sense, always asking questions others did not think to.”
The old cat’s grandchild listened intently, eating up the words as if she was starving. Her ears perked but her tail tip twitched, like she desperately wanted to begin asking questions, but decided to keep quiet. She knew better than to interrupt her elders.
“I thought it best to search for answers when none were given. Thus, leading me to go on many adventures as I grew.”
“Do you still go on adventures, grandma?”
The old cat shook her head. “No, I do not. I am much too old to go on adventures anymore.” Not a lie. She was now a mature Calico going into her nineteenth year of life. Four years longer than expected of a stray, or any cat in general. “But I do remember every tale from my youth.”
Awe sparkled in the kitten’s blue eyes, the melanin that would change them to a different color not yet activated, marking the kitten as about six weeks old or less. “Will you tell me one?”
“I will tell you every tale and more.” The old cat purred. “But to start, I think I'll tell you about my first time exploring on my own after I was weaned.”
Her granddaughter waited patiently, listening as the old cat began to tell one of the many stories she could remember from heart.
—
A gentle breeze ruffled the newly grown leaves of Spring as birds drifted on the gust and chirped happily, flowers and plants in full bloom everywhere. A mother cat stalked from the tall grass, her eyes focusing on a squirrel not too far from her hiding spot. When she pounced, all that left the squirrel was a squeak, cut off almost as soon as it began.
Her kittens leaped playfully from the brush, mimicking her pounce or trying to scare each other by hiding in the grass, as she had done. The mother cat picked up the squirrel and placed it closer to the tall grass, drawing the attention of all her children, including the one who had stayed close to the back of the group.
A glossy and beautiful Calico; an old cat remembered young.
The young cat surveyed her siblings surrounding the squirrel and she followed suit, sitting beside it like the rest of them, but curling her tail over her paws in polite patience.
“My children,” the mother cat called to her kittens, “this will be your first bite of solid food, marking the beginning of your journey to adulthood.”
None of them listened, they were all too focused on the squirrel in front of them. All of them except for one, the young Calico, who listened like she would surely drown without her mother’s words breathing life into her. Only when her mother motioned for everyone to take a bite, did she look down and hesitate. As her siblings took bite after bite, the squirrel became less like an animal and more like a bloody mess.
“What’s wrong, sis?” One of the young cat’s siblings asked tauntingly.
“Yeah,” another one joined in on the jest, “Are you too used to mom’s milk to eat actual food?”
The young cat ignored their teasing and bent to take a bite, it was in fact bloody, and quite furry, but she noticed her siblings watching her and forced herself to swallow. It felt weird going down but the satisfying aftertaste was rewarding, she went to take another bite but their mother spoke.
“Now that you’ve begun your journey, you must continue alone and forge your own life.”
Her kittens were listening now, some excited to explore, others aghast at being without their mother, while the young Calico didn’t know how she felt.
I guess I have eight more lives to figure that out, right? She had thought innocently, the rhyme her mother told her and her littermates over and over again until it was ingrained in her head.
“Go, my children. I cannot care for you forever.” The mother cat said before turning and disappearing into the brush, leaving her kittens to face the world.
Immediately several of the young cat’s siblings began taking off in different directions and she decided to go with one of them.
“Don’t even think about following me.” The littermate she began to trail behind hissed, “I don’t need a goody-two-shoes holding me back from causing mischief.”
“Why do you want to cause mischief?” The young cat asked.
Her sibling rolled their eyes. “You do remember how the rhyme goes, right?”
The young cat nodded.
“Then let me play for my first three lives, as the rhyme says I should.”
And with that, the young cat’s siblings all left one after another, until she was the only one remaining. She looked around and took in the plants, the sky, basically everything else as well. The young cat then walked around a bit, not going in any of the directions her siblings had, she really didn’t want to encounter any of them and get reprimanded for “following”.
Eventually she found a small, grassy knoll with a large willow tree that overlooked a nice wildflower meadow, the midday sun lighting up any places shadows attempted to hide. A fast-paced river gurgled near the end of the tree line, no doubt filled to the brim with fish. It was beautiful, I can’t believe I get eight more lives like this.
The young cat’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of barking, a dog, getting…closer. She whipped her head in the direction of the noise and saw two huge dogs barrelling towards her. Instinct took over and before the young cat knew it, her claws were digging into the willow’s bark as she climbed higher and higher. Only when the barking was dulled, did the young cat perch on a branch and look down, the two dogs were staring up at her, drool dripping from their maws as they continued their frenzied barking.
Is this how I die? Is this how I lost my first life? The young cat thought fearfully, Why did it have to be by dogs?
When the young cat thought the dogs would start climbing the tree themselves, a loud, clear sound rang out, but the dogs remained at the base of the willow. The young cat peered through the leaves and branches to see a tall creature that stood on two legs. Is that a human? Didn’t mom say to avoid them?
The human made the beckoning noise again with its mouth and the dogs ran towards it this time, turning and following the creature back down the hill to somewhere the young cat couldn’t see. She waited to see if they would come back, but thankfully they never returned.
The young cat began to climb back down the tree, when she heard someone say, “Hi! What’s your name?”
She turned her head and looked down, seeing another dog at the base of the tree and terror filling her senses again, driving her to move back up to her branch.
“What do you want?” The young cat hissed once she was on the branch again.
The dog was much smaller than the other two, possibly not even full grown. “Oh, I don't want anything. I just saw you get chased up a tree and wanted to see if you were okay.”
“You’re…checking if I’m okay?”
“Uh-huh.” The young dog nodded, “You seemed really scared.”
“Yeah, I am!” The young cat’s fur bristled slightly, You’re a dog. A brutal, psychotic, killing machine that likes to tear cats like me to shreds.” She recalled the words her mother had always said to warn her and her siblings of the dangers of the world. Dogs always at the top of the list. “Now what do you want?”
“I already told you. Nothing.” The young dog explained with a content smile. “I simply wanted to check on you.” He looked behind him where the other dogs had retreated with the human. “Maybe those two are brutal, killing machines. But not me.” The young dog said cheerfully, “I’m not like my older brothers.”
“You’re telling me…that those two are your littermates?” The young cat asked disbelievingly, “But…you’re so tiny compared to them.”
“Oh, no. They’re not my littermates. I'm from a newer one.” He explained, his tail wagging in that annoying way that all dogs do for no reason.
The fur at the back of the young cat’s neck began to lie flat. “So, you’re not going to eat me?”
“Eat you?” The young dog sat and tilted his head, “I don’t want to eat you. I wanna be your friend.”
Now it was more curiosity than suspicion driving the young cat to ask, “Why?” Not even trying to keep the blunt hostility from her voice.
“You seem nice.”
At this, the young cat rolled her eyes and descended down the willow tree, leaping to the ground gracefully once she was low enough to do so. She then swept her tail over her paws and eyed the young dog, his tail wagging yet again.
“You’re not the brightest, are you?” The young cat bent her head to lick the back of her paw and rub it over her face.
The young dog’s tail never stopped wagging and he stood and began sniffing the young cat, making her flinch and take several steps back with a hiss on her tongue.
“You’re not the friendliest, are you?” He countered back, more of an observation than a snide remark.
With an indifferent scoff, the young cat stood and took off through the wildflower meadow, not caring if the young dog followed or not. She found a tiny path that led around the turns and bends among the sea of flowers, the smell unlike anything she’s ever gotten to experience before. It really was beautiful. This is probably the most beautiful thing I will see in all my nine lives. She thought happily, barely paying any attention to the dog who had indeed decided to follow her and now trailed behind a few tail-lengths away.
The young cat allowed the dog’s presence so long as he didn’t touch her and didn’t speak, both of which he failed at almost simultaneously. She had stopped abruptly to study a wildflower she thought was quite unique and the young dog had not noticed the change in her pace, running right into the young cat and making her jump several feet into the air.
“Whoa! How do you jump so high?” The young dog asked, awe sparkling in his voice.
Once she had landed, the young cat glared at him and hissed. “Watch where you’re going!”
The young dog flattened his ears and whimpered sadly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
All the fury the young cat felt in that quick moment faded to an irritated calm, I wonder if any of my littermates are experiencing anything like this.
“It’s…it’s fine. Just don’t touch me again.” The young cat heard how harsh she probably sounded, adding a quick, “Please.” to try softening any irritation mistaken for hostility.
“Okay!” The young dog said cheerfully, his tail wagging once again.
With a relieved sigh, the young cat began her walk again and as she kept going, she noticed the young dog was indeed, keeping to himself. She was also quite thankful that he hadn't been talking nonstop, or even actually talking, for that matter. She was a cat who enjoyed scenery, silence, and relaxation, most likely the exact opposite of the animal who now followed her.
After a while, the dog began to fidget more and more the longer the young cat made her way to the tall grasses that edged a side of the meadow, throwing in an uncertain, “Um,...” or “Uhh…”
The young cat had to give him a look and said, “Please stop talking. I’m trying to enjoy my scenic walk.”
“Umm, yeah, I understand that but I just—.”
“What did I just say?” She said flatly.
The young dog shut his mouth but continued to fidget, his tail no longer wagging and he looked more concerned than the young cat would probably ever see him.
The young cat didn’t break her stride as she asked, “Fine. What is it?”
“W-well,”
“Spit it out.”
He stopped walking, “It’s just that there are some hidden dangers around here and I think you should be a bit more careful.”
“Hidden dangers?” She laughed as her tail flicked the young dog on the nose. “Like what?
“Well,” They were very close to the brush now, the young cat practically in it. “You never know when you might—.”
The young cat didn’t hear the rest as she felt the feeling of solid ground disappear beneath her paws and be replaced by cold wetness. With a shriek of fear, the young cat plunged into the chilly water of the swift river, dragging her down and cutting off any attempt to cry out. Struggling to keep her head above water, all thoughts left her and the only thing that remained was the fear of being pulled under the surface and not coming back up. Nine lives or not.
The young cat flailed around as the water soaked her fur until she thought she herself was made of it, simply nothing more than a current following the flow of the river. She had lost sight of the young dog the moment she fell in the water, the pushing and pulling movements of the currents dragging her further from view. At one point, the young cat caught sight of the dog running along the side of the bank, and the relief of being saved flooded her thoughts, almost making her laugh with hysteric giddiness.
This distracted her so much, the young cat didn’t notice the slight drop into violent rapids only a little ways ahead of her, taking her completely by surprise as she went over and was pushed further and further down into the dark waves.
The young cat struggled and pushed, fighting every step of the way, but the light at the surface of the water was growing fainter and moving farther by the second, her lungs aching at the breath that cried to be let free. Trying to cry out for help, she clamped her mouth shut immediately as she lost precious air from her body, creating a painful ache in her chest. Still, she tried.
Even when her limbs grew tired, even when her lungs were screaming at her now, all until she finally obliged and let the freshwater seep into her mouth and down her throat. As her lungs filled with the cold chill of it, the young cat stopped thrashing and recognized just how relaxing it was floating here, how peaceful, it was. The darkness, the quiet, the easy feeling as she slowly closed her eyes in patient anticipation for what was to come.
Perhaps, this isn’t such a bad way to go. This might actually be the best way, with how peaceful and calm it feels. The young cat didn’t mind the cold now, she didn’t mind the inability to breathe, she was nothing in this space, nothing as everything faded to black.
—
The sweet scent of something that couldn’t quite be placed wafted through the air, stirring an exhausted Calico from what she thought was the path to her next life. Instead, she was greeted by bright sunlight in a clearing she never thought she would lay eyes on, not yet at least. Fluffy, white clouds carpeted the entirety of the ethereal plain as far as the young cat’s eyes could see, and before her, a large, toffee colored cat loomed. His beautiful, brown, Maine Coon fur as fluffy as the surrounding clouds, the tuft on his chest almost shielding his view of the young cat.
“Well, hello there.” His tone was gruff, but sweet, the voice commonly belonging to those known as grandfathers. “You sure weren’t expected for another,” The Maine Coon tipped his head to the side as he tried to recall what he intended to say, “fifteen years at worst. Did you know that some cats live past twenty? Crazy how the average for a cat’s age is fifteen but many live a bit longer.” He chuckled to himself, proud of his knowledge. The Maine Coon then noticed the young cat’s confusion and cleared his throat. “Anyway, welcome, but don’t plan on staying long.”
Finally, the young cat built the strength to ask, “What? Where am I?”
“Oh, well, you kinda…died.”
“Huh.” She responded like it was some cool fact she was just told, “Does that mean I get to move on to my next life?”
The Maine Coon looked surprised at this question, but simply laughed gently. “I’m sorry. Next life? There is no next life. This is it.” He gestured to the endless clouds with a content smile.
“Wait, what!” The young cat exclaimed, shock causing her to lose control of her volume for a second and accidentally screaming in the Maine Coon’s ear. Well, if it even made it up to his ear, considering how tall he sat. “But the rhyme for a cat’s nine lives goes, ‘for three he plays, for three he strays, and for three he stays,’.”
At this, the Maine Coon gave a pure, wholehearted, belly laugh. “You really believe that?”
“Well, yeah. My mother told me that all the time.” Now she was confused.
“All cat’s get one life, whether you want to believe it or not.” He shifted slightly and curled his tail over his massive paws. “The rhyme I believe you were told is one that all mothers tell their kittens. I’m sorry to say, but it’s not true.”
The young cat looked at her paws. “So, I’m actually dead?”
“Yes, but do not fret, young one.” The Maine Coon stood up and he seemed to grow even taller. “It isn’t your time. In fact, a lifelong friend-to-be is currently trying to get you back, so I will oblige him.”
Before she could say or ask anything else, the light faded, the clouds dissipated, and the feeling of drowning hit the young cat in waves, quite literally. She was back, beneath the river’s surface, cold water still flowing down her throat and slowly, but peacefully, suffocating her. She opened her eyes just enough to see a dark shape dive below the water’s surface and reach out for her. At this gesture, the young cat found it in her to do one last push and she shifted right into the shape’s jaws. It’s teeth not clenching hard enough to hurt, but good enough to get a tight grip. At once, the young cat was pulled up and up and up until she broke the surface and was brought onto solid land, her senses taking over and failing at the creature holding onto her.
As she did this, the shape released her and backed away, giving the young cat just enough room to retch up such a large amount of water from the river, she almost believed she could’ve created her own. When she was finished, she lay there in the grass, prone, soaked to the bone, every part of her body aching from her earlier struggles. Once the young cat got enough air in her now empty lungs, she turned to the also soaking wet creature to her side and was surprised when she saw the young dog shaking out his fur.
“Oh my goodness! You’re alive! I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” He stressed as he rushed over to the young cat but remembered her instructions from earlier and remained a tail-length away, subtly trying to sniff her for any injuries.
Oh, that’s right I,...died. The young cat thought with this strange feeling now at the back of her mind, like the feeling of knowing, but not being aware. If what that cat said is true, then I really don’t have nine lives. No cat does.
The young dog tilted his head in confusion when the young cat didn’t respond.
“Sorry, no, I…I kinda didn’t make it.”
“What? But you’re right here.”
“I know, I know.” She shook her own fur out, as the dog had done. “I died for a second I think, but then came back to life? I honestly don’t know, it was all really confusing.” The young cat looked at the young dog, sudden realization hitting her like the waves first did when she fell in the river moments before. “You…you saved me.”
The young dog used his back leg to paw water out of one of his ears. “Yeah, dogs are naturally good swimmers so I knew I’d be able to get to you, I just didn’t know if I’d be able to get there soon enough.”
“Thank you.” The young cat said simply, the idea of mortality being closer than she thought scaring any emotion from her voice. She looked at the dog again, running up to him and rubbing her head along his maw, a hysteric, relieved purring rumbling from her throat. “Thank you.”
—
The kitten sat there before her grandmother, confusion and awe coating her voice as she said, “Wow. You actually died, and then came back to life?”
The old cat nodded as she said, “Yes, I did. But the lesson I want you to take from this story is to never give up.” She gently flicked her granddaughter’s cheek with the tip of her tail. “Because even though I was being dragged further and further below the surface, I didn’t give up and continued to fight my way back to the surface. And when I was saved, I ended up making a great friend who stood by me my entire life.”
The kitten fidgeted with questions, “Are they the dog from your story?”
The old cat feigned surprise, “Yes, how did you know?” She chuckled with her granddaughter’s soft laughter, the jest drawing the attention of a mother expecting one last daughter to get to bed.
“The dog from my story was one of my best friends, a good one too.”
The kitten tipped her head to one side, “Was?”
“Oh, he’s not with us anymore.” The old cat reminisced sweetly. “He lived a good life though. He was happy while he passed.” Her thoughts went back to the land of clouds she had seen when she died, knowing she would see her old friend there waiting for her when the time was right.
“Why was he happy while he passed?”
The old cat flicked her tail, “Because he was ready for it, and he had me by his side.”
“He sounds very nice.”
“He was.”
“Will you tell me another story, grandma? I want to hear more about your life.” The kitten asked quietly, suddenly aware of her siblings beginning to fall asleep not too far away.
“Of course, dear.” The old cat thought for a moment and began saying, “There was this one time—.”
“Alright, mother.” The mother cat interrupted, “I think it’s time for someone to go to sleep.”
“What?” The kitten whined, “I want grandma to tell me another story.”
The old cat shared a glance with her daughter and looked at her granddaughter, “Another night, love.” When the kitten didn’t seem like she would budge, the old cat added, “I promise you’ll get two stories tomorrow. Alright? Does that sound fair?”
The now excited kitten nodded vigorously and quietly followed her mother down an old rabbit hole at the base of a tree nearby that was now a nest full of sleeping kittens, calling over her shoulder, “Goodnight, grandma.”
“Goodnight, dear.” The old cat responded.
Once the mother cat and kitten were no longer in view, the old cat looked up at the cloudless sky, the stars shining brighter than she’s ever seen them before. The old cat looked to her left, the tall and now gnarled willow tree her daughter and granddaughter disappeared below still standing after all these years. Her gaze then swept over the meadow of wildflowers at the base of the knoll she laid upon, them coming back and growing anew every year. It was beautiful.
The river near the one side of the meadow, the grass sliced down for an easier view of what was ahead, so no other foolish kittens made the same mistake she did. As the old cat thought back about those times and what she had discovered then about her mortality, she rested her head on her paws and stared up at the stars.
She stayed up the entire night, thinking about her life, thinking about the lives that are to come, and how they will simply go in a blink. Thinking about the kitten who would now be sleeping and dreaming of the adventures the new day had to offer. The two stories she would be getting before bed tomorrow.
The old cat chuckled to herself, the comparison of her and her granddaughter so similar in most ways, it made her smile. As she shifted slightly, the old cat’s bones groaned with protest, the result of all the years she spent running and playing. Had she really been that young all that time ago? She didn’t care, not now, not anymore. She was old, her time was bound to be soon right?
Eventually, after many hours of just thinking, the sun began rising, the light beginning to brighten up any places shadows attempted to hide, engulfing a weary and tired, old cat. A cat who would happily go back to that land of clouds, who would happily see her first and oldest friend again. Spending all her time trying to catch him up on what he missed. He would love it. Just as he loved everything about everyone.
I’m really glad he didn’t turn out like his brothers. The old cat thought as she sighed happily, Or I probably wouldn't be here today. No one here would be.
She watched the sunrise reach and stretch out before her, the glow felt warm as she bathed in the sun, feeling young once again. As her breathing slowed and her eyes fluttered shut, the old cat knew how disappointed her granddaughter would be. How she would find out that her two stories she was promised will not be told before bed today, about how she will find her grandmother in the morning and understand the moral of the story told the night before.
The old cat sighed deeply, a smile spreading across her face as she felt her grip on mortality slip, ever so slightly.
“There you are.” An aged but familiar voice brought her from her thoughts.
She opened her eyes and saw her oldest friend sitting to her side, staring up at the stars.
He noticed her gaze and turned to her, “Hello.” The old dog she remembered from his passing was there no more, instead, he looked as young as he did when they first met. The one who saved her from drowning. “Are you ready to go?”
“Hah,” The old cat laughed, her eyes sparkling, “What took you so long?”
She stood as she spoke, her body becoming weightless as she moved toward her friend, her body becoming young once again. When she stood by the dog’s side, the young cat looked back to see the body of the aged Calico she had become, positioned in a way to seem like she was simply resting, but the young cat knew that was not how it would go.
For she was once again an old cat remembered young, and she would stay like that for eternity with her best friend. “She’s going to be disappointed, you know. My granddaughter. Let’s go. I have so much to tell you.” She said as she started dashing upwards toward the sky, the young dog followed right behind her, his tail wagging and tongue lolling out.
Together, they ran up and up and up until they felt they couldn’t anymore, until their bodies grew brighter and brighter until they became stars that sat side-by-side, shining brighter than any of the others.
It was beautiful.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my SHP Creative Writing class, because of you, I was able to meet so many people who think like me and make many friends I hope to keep. You are such amazing people and you all bring my spirits up every single day.
Thank you to my English teacher, Mrs. Kaps, who was the reason I even thought to start writing in the first place. You have been such a great influence on me and I couldn't ask for a better Teacher\Editor\Devil’s Advocate. :)
And a special thanks to my mom and neighbor\best friend Michelle, who will always remind me that they are my biggest fans in anything I do, sport or activity.
I love every single one of you with all my heart.