Thursday, 15 December 2011


 Note: I suggest you read Naturally before this

I find my lighter under my table and I flick it on and fizzle the ends of my hair, the smell of burning protein drives me insane so I throw open the kitchen window. Winter air biting at me as I sit and shiver, too proud to get a coat.  The cat climbs out and goes on an adventure down the garden path, flicking her tail from side to side in slow, careful motions.  I wrap my arms around myself and go to the window to watch her, amber coat glinting in the frost.

The doorbell rings, it is ignored.

The cat lies low and leans down, shaking. Eyes wide, pupils dilated. Ready. I’m transfixed, fascinated.

The doorbell is still ringing and then they start knocking at the windows, a voice shouts.

I’m still watching as she runs forward. Paws light and soft on the snow, teeth sharp, claws extended and then in her paws is a starling. Neck broken on impact but its still jolting around slightly, I get violently sick into the sink underneath me and I sit back down as the cat begins to play with the poor dead creature.  I plant my face down in a stack of notes and close my eyes.

The knocks on the door stop as I drift off.

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