Custom Nightmare Tigrean
protector or hunter?
Urban jungle. Cable vines and the never ending melody of honking cars, busy activities and shimmering heat.
None of the milions of people, walking through the streets day by day, would ever notice the presence of a lost cat. Everyone is so busy, Busy with their lives, with their phone calls or busy about not walking into each other. The only time people recognize a poor and hungry cat, is when they try to get their paws on a few bites of food, too little to be satiated, too much to starve.
I try to catch a few of my locks, dancing wildly in the wind.
sigh
I give up up on my hairdo for which I spent nearly 2 hours this morning in the bath, and tie up my hair in a messy bun.
»That should do it.« I said quietly to myself.
Everyday after work, when the streets begin to darken, gloomy creatures on two legs start to wander around, I try to rescue cats. Maybe I am some sort of catlady? A fanatic woman, hoarding cats like medals. But no. I simply try to save them. Giving them a home, a shelter, a warm place to live. Enough food to ease their body and mind. Some cats stay for a while, some leave me after one night. But at least I know what I did. I am not that kind of person, scaring cats off their porch.
As I walk down the empyting streets I hear a rattle in a side road. As well as a deep manly laughter.
»You stinky bastard!« an unkempt man was standing with his back towards me. With quick glance I saw, that he was holding a small cat, dirty and thin in his big hands. It twisted and turned itself, trying to escape.
»This will be the last time you stray around my house«
I believe with house, he meant the cardboard that was laying right next to him.
All my nerves began to tense up, as the man pulled out a little knife. Little, yet big enough to end this cats life.
»STOP IT« I yelled.
And again, whenever I sensed danger for me or my foundlings, I couldn't remember what I did. Everything seemed to be a movie that is played. I do remember the fear in that mans eyes, not that fear of someone who got interrupted in a crime. But the fear for someones life.
The knife fell with a cling on the ground, as well as the little cat, who landed on its four paws.
»Dont worry« I said calmly, »I am going to take care of you.«
Before I tried to pick up the exhausted cat, I saw myself in a puddle. Yet I was unable to realize what I really saw. Two staring feral eyes surrounded by silken black fur stared back into my face. I also felt kinda exhausted, as my brain started to clear up. With a gentle move I embraced the cat in my arms and started to head back to my house, little distance outside of the city itself.
As soon as I opened the door, I already felt the presence of my beloved roommates. Dozens of cats, different sizes, different coat colors and as many as different personalities greeted me. But before I could give my attention to everyone, I had to take care of our newest family member.
It's been nearly a week, since I rescued that street cat. I named her Pearl, since she started to shine brightly after I took care of her.
As I read through the newspaper, I recognized a face. It was the same face that belonged to that filthy man who tried to stab Pearl.
»Shizophrenic man caught running through the streets. On monday evening a homeless man was caught on 7th avenue. He was screaming loudly and fought back the police and medics, as he had a huge old scratch on his left face which seemed to be at least one week old. Under arrest the man was distraught and kept mumbling about a predator in black.«
I paused. Thinking back to that night was hard, since my memory already erased most of it, but I remember these feral blue eyes and I could swear that I saw my own eyes.
A loud meowing pulled me out of my thinking. Pearl was sitting next to me, demanding her food. As I laughed I shook my head, getting rid of my thoughts. It was time again for my precious cats.
credits ;;
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chi and User not found: sentinel profile art and story by
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