Not that I really know what this is like,…
Beyond the shores of slumber,
Where peace overtakes daylight’s stress
Upon the starry shore of sleep,
There lies a place of dreams
Over which reigns tranquillity and
Serenity. Hand in hand,
They show deepest desires: wishes
Given life. Hazy, dim, those
Visions shrouded, lend a certain
Happiness. Things impossible
Or improbable upon waking; clarity
Cloaked by nightfall, a blanket of bliss,
Encourages, comforts, granting
Relaxation during repose, a
Sense of wholeness found,
It’s about a friend and his cats. Pure silliness. He asked four a story, and this is what he got:
A Dood & “His” Cats
Once upon a time there lived two cats, Steven and Hobbes. Originally hailing from another galaxy and planet, they now lived in their very own apartment on Earth due to an important (vital, even) Mission for their Goddess. To keep up appearances in this foreign territory, they even had their very own personal human. Him they named “Rion”. (However intelligent they were, they never fully grasped humans’ spelling; hence, the obvious mistake with their human’s name (not that they or he had noticed).)
Rion was quite well behaved and perfectly trained. Steven had, through infinite patience and dedication, schooled the human in the proper methods of play and petting. Meanwhile, Hobbes had overseen the fields of food (such as correct times and the expected selections) as well as that of poop-scooping.
Dedicated to their Mission, Hobbes and Steven avoided discovery by emulating the docile, domesticated companions these humans seemed to favor. (Being little more than household pets, these humans had dared to become insubordinate, and had somehow succeeded, which Hobbes found odd.) Nor did they use undue coercion or punishment while Rion was in training. Instead they employed a system of “friendly manipulation” such as (but never limited to) pottying in corners when the box was full, or chewing holes in things if dinner was late. Such manipulation ensured he strived to remember his chores in a timely fashion. Manipulation remarkably, alike to punishment, seemed to work best if complemented by rewards for proper behavior. He responded spendidly to their purrs and nuzzles even as well, if not better, than to their manipulations.
Since fear is also a great motivator, they employed that method as well, often warning him of their might. They slaughtered bugs or small rodents and left them for their human to discover. This forced Rion to acknowledge both their cruelty and the danger of upsetting them. His dreadful groans upon such discoveries assured them he was sufficiently cowed.
Thus, these three lives continued, harmoniously, for a number of years. As it is often said, though, all good things eventually must end. At least, for Rion they must. However, to appreciate the end, first one must grasp the beginning.
Being from the planet Khatmunkel (pronounced suspiciously like “cat-man-kill”), Steven and Hobbes were not exactly what they seemed. Rather, they were all they seem to be, plus a little more. “A little more” was their dark secret.
True, they were cats, but not the simple creatures typical of Earth. They were SuperCats, and they were here upon Earth to serve the Goddess of Khatmunkel, which was a planet solely populated by cats and their creations. It should also be noted that though the Goddess has a name, it is too holy to be uttered in this realm, and even on Khatmunkel it is only with speech on the holiday called “Consumption Day” (it is an infrequent holiday, rare even, but more will be learned of that later). There, however, She needed no name.
On Khatmunkel, SuperCats were the acolytes of the Goddess. They taught the other cats and showed them how to worship the Goddess. For this, SuperCats were blessed with heightened speech capabilities along with genius level intelligence. In such ways they assisted the lesser cats until they were commanded to begin their Mission. Being chosen to be a SuperCat was a great privilege that few received. The SuperCats’ Mission occurred about once per century, and required them to travel to Earch (via complex Portal) where they sought out a male human. The Goddess took her sustenance by consuming the soul of this man (on Consumption Day), but first he had to be seduced with cuteness. This was the hardest and longest part of a SuperCat’s Mission.
Rion, however, proved easy prey to the “seduction by cuteness” tactic, and soon succumbed. Even so, he was still a sooper manly dood according to human standards. He oozed testosterone from overgrown muscles, which by way of their size, deprived his brain of needed (much-needed in his case) blood and oxygen, resulting in its small size and functional disadvantages. Thus he was a prime target for these two SuperCats’ scheme.
What is more, once they broke through all his macho bravado he was quite the soft-hearted little flower. His delicate soul, they deemed, was both worthy and capable of sating the appetite of the Goddess. Additionally, Steven and Hobbes, during the interim between his seduction and soul-harvest, benefited from their human’s physical strength and endurance. Coupled with his deficient mental faculties, he was always and endlessly amused with playing silly games and petting them. Physically: he was tireless in his petting; mentally: well, “kitty soft, must keep petting and playing” sums it up concisely. This resulted in countless enjoyable hours for Hobbes and Steven, while the mindless, repetitive motion seemed to be a soothing comfort for Rion (except when both SuperCats were vying for attention and he became overwhelmed deciding who to pet first (tandem petting was out of the question for such a simpleton)).
Days and weeks turned into months marching continuously on. Rion fell into the routine of day-to-day life with his captors, and learned to enjoy it. Steven and Hobbes shared his enjoyment and were happy with all the ministrations he had to offer. Yet, even so, they yearned to complete their Mission and return to their home on Khatmunkel. Little did Rion know what went on, toward that end, in the dark of night while he sweetly slumbered.
It was on one such night, Christmas Eve on Earth, that the SuperCats performed what would be their final Bless His Soul ritual. This was performed at regular intervals throughout their care for the human; how often is difficult to calculate since cats do not measure time as humans do. During a Bless His Soul ritual, the SuperCats walked an intricate Holy Pattern, determined by night and moon-phase, around the man’s bed and sprinkling catnip on the path. Purring and meowing ecstatically, they danced along the prescribed Pattern, inhaling the earthy aroma of the nip. Once they completed the Holy Pattern, they rolled in the herb, even eating a little. Consciousnesses…”expanded”, they opened their minds to the Goddess, and the Sacred Séance commenced.
Meows and purrs turned into CatSong, which was nothing more than unified yowling, and the air in the bedroom seemed to pulsate with their tempo. Suddenly, silence descended. In their minds they saw the voice of the Goddess undulate, heard it dance.
“Listen well, SuperCats, and heed my words,” Her voice tip-toed through their minds. “The hour draws nigh. His soul thus is perfectly blessed and ripe for Harvest. Soon,” Her twirling voice intoned, “he will face the Minion, preparing him to cross over with you. Stand ready.” Her voice vanished, closing the curtain on the Sacred Séance.
Presently there came a crash and a clatter outside the apartment. Startled by the raucous, Rion awoke and in a blink ran to the window. He peered through the blinds hoping for a glimpse of Santa or his reindeer sleigh. What he saw was much cuter: a kitten, little more than a (small) ball of fluff, with a bow of sickly putrid green. Following the human downstairs, Hobbes winked at a grinning Steve while Rion brought the mewing fluff inside.
“Not too much longer now!” Steven whispered excitedly to Hobbes.
“Where did you come from, little girl,” Rion mused, “and who put such a hideous bow on you?” As he wondered over the kitten’s unexpected and inexplicable appearance, he started scratching under her chin. Lost in thought, he failed to notice Steve’s and Hobbes’s evil grins or gleeful prancing. Suspicious behavior in his seemingly “lazy” captors, had he noticed. Preoccupied with a cute kitten, he was totally oblivious and ignore them completely.
“Ouch!” Rion’s contemplation quickly ended in pointy teeth. Care of apologetic, sandpaper-rough tongue immediately followed incisors on his finger. “My, my,” he murmured, “such a feisty girl.” By this time, the SuperCats were in a fervor. His finger throbbing so that he decided to wash and examine it, Rion wondered if there were any boo-boo bands in the medicine cabinet.
Unfortunately for him, he neither made it to the medicine cabinet, nor found any boo-boo bands. More unfortunately for him, that was no cute Earth-kitten he’d found, but the Minion (part flesh, part machine, it was a symbiotic assassination drone). A venomous albeit adorable tool used by the Goddess, it lured unsuspecting human men (who apparently have a weakness for kittens and other cute, small creatures) willingly to the final phase that is their undoing. Needle-like fangs injected the poison while licking instantly healed the bite. Toxins thus sealed inside, it began its dirty deed.
When Rion stood and began to walk, the venom translated that into “Godspeed and bon voyage”, and coursed through his system. Once it reached his heart, life, as he knew it, ended. He stumbled into the table before his last, wobbling step thumped him right into the wall. Face first he crumpled to the floor.
The SuperCats leaped onto his back, clamoring their triumph and unmindful of the flood their excitement drew from the human’s unconscious form. At the appearance of a Portal, they ceased their clamor and reverted to a serene façade. From the Portal emerged four, large-model DogBots to transport the human’s body to Khatmunkel. Each of the DogBots took a wrist or an ankle in its mouth whereby to carry the man-lump, gears grinding and motors whirring under his weight. The SuperCats strutted through the Portal behind the DogBots….
….and stepped into the Palace at Khatmunkel. A great fanfare of meows and purring filled the Hall of Harvest. The Hall was used only for this event, as the taking of a soul by the Goddess was that great holiday, Consumption Day. It was a rare occurrence, and every cat fasted to honor Her feast; the cats were instead satisfied with euphoria as the Goddess sated Herself.
Open to the heavens, the roofless Hall of Harvest allowed the Goddess to directly descend upon the SuperCats’ offering. When she materialized, indistinguishable cat sounds greeting Her arrival changed to a chant:
“The great Goddess, She comes! All hail Her majesty! Hail, Rachael! She comes! Hail! Hail!”
The chant continued as Her murky, ephemeral form (Her appearance when She abandoned the supernatural realm and took physical shape) slowly descended, hushing the Hall only when finally She settled, hovering over the unconscious man. All the cats in attendance watched raptly, Steven and Hobbes more so as this was the fruition of their plans and efforts, the culmination of all it meant to be named “SuperCat”.
Though blind to the transference of the human’s soul, this was the moment in which the power of the Goddess, should she ultimately accept the offering, was renewed. Breath still, eyes unblinking and wide, they stared upon what they could see. The soul was invisible to their eyes, yet the effects of its consumption were not. As Her physicality gained clarity during the Harvest, the Holy Light within Her, shrouded and dim, began to shine and solidify.
As his sould departed, drawing the Minion’s venom from him in its wake, Rion began to stir. Simultaneously, the Holy Light peaked inside the Goddess, throbbed in tune to Her lifeforce. Rising suddenly, Rion darted glances around the Hall of Harvest. His expression morphed (rapidly) from confusion to stark terror. (For years to come, witnesses would tell their kittens of the keening he emitted, and how it had made their fur stand on end at its hopeless despair. Even, one day much later, they came up with a myth: when a wind whistled high and shrill through the trees, much as Rion’s frightened cry had, they would scare the kittens. “’Tis the pieces of his digested soul,” the cats would hiss, “howling as they search the universe for what is now missing – their body.” At which point their eyes would narrow, ominously transforming their gaze. “Bad kittens are exceptionally prone to victimization, to becoming inhabited by those searching pieces. Those kittens always come to a bad end.”) Running in unsteady, lurching circles as he searched for an escape, Rion continued to scream. At a signal from Hobbes, one of the DogBots wagged its tail directly into the human’s tummy, his momentum tumbling him over the tail. Again Rion crumpled to the ground face first; again he was rendered unconscious.
The disembodied voice of the Goddess touched every consciousness in the Hall. “Well done, faithful friends,” She sang, beaming at them. “Hobbes, Steven, you may retire with your charge. Once more, well done, SuperCats.”
Blinking at each other in confusion as a Portal materialized, realization dawned dark and bleak upon Steven and Hobbes, shocking: they were the only true SuperCats. The others were simple apprentices yet, awaiting the day the Goddess called on them to also serve their purpose; none were present who had accomplished their Mission. That realization brought another swiftly after it: they had never been told what their roles would be when service was complete.
“He made a great sacrifice,” the Goddess began before they could ask, “however ignorant of it he may have been. He shall not now be abandoned to live a soulless life alone.”
“But –“ Steven began, blowing out his whiskers, before Her mind overpowered his own, robbing his speech.
“Due to the impaired ability of his mind because of overgrown musculature, he now, lacking a soul, will require even more assistance than before. The two of you shall remain in your roles of owners and caretakers. This is the last duty of the SuperCat. Once his husk, his body, reaches the end of its mortality, your duties will end. Then, if you still desire, you may return to Khatmunkel for the remainder of your days.”
Hobbes drooped at Her words. “You mean that –“
“So we don’t get to, to partake in the…the holiday…festivities?” was all Steven could stammer, SuperCat eloquence currently unavailable, voice a squeak at the end.
The musical laughter of the Goddess was the only answer he received, for the DogBots were in motion. Once more laden with the man-lump, they herded the SuperCats through the Portal; it was a choice between jumping through or being trampled, which was no choice at all.
The leap through the Portal landed them back in the earthly apartment. They watched the DogBots, which, unceremoniously dropping their burden, disappeared again via Portal. Back to Khatmunkel. Without them. Steven and Hobbes collapsed next to their human’s still form.
“I can’t believe it,” Hobbes sight, “we’re stuck here.” He stared at Rion whose breathing was growing shallow and irregular as wakefulness approached. “It’s certainly neither going to be so thrilling nor so glorious this time.”
Steven slouched further and moaned, “Stuck. For years. With THAT!” He swiped at the man-flesh’s nose. After a thoughtful moment, he continued, “We could make it exciting, maybe.”
“I suppose She was right, though,” Hobbes pointed out. “Maybe he does deserve our attendance for his sacrifice.”
“But it’s human,” Steven whined, “and we missed the holiday on Khatmunkel.” He flopped onto his side to watch the giant lump, sneering expression disgusted. As Rion began to stir, Steven grumbled, “A slave might be amusing, useful, if not exactly ‘exciting’.”
Eventually Rion sat up, rubbed his forehead where a bump had formed. With a wince he groaned, “I fell? Hit head?”
Steven sighed dubiously, glaring first at the human, then at Hobbes who ignored him. Hobbes purred and nuzzled Rion’s knee.
“Strange dreams, boy. Very strange.”
And with that, the human pushed the “dream” out of its mind and went on with what was left of its life – slaver. His brain too small to understand what had transpired, he lived life more or less unchanged, and unaware of his missing soul.
None desire the
leaky mug or
hold a beautiful
so, too, a broken
soul or the
I’ve been seeing these flossing around, so i thought I’d give it a try. (My bookshelf is wrecked now.)
The pillars of creation,
The pillars of the earth.
Waking up screaming
Beyond good and evil.
Just after sunset:
The gathering storm,
The last kingdom,
A feast for crows.
A memory of light.
Thoughts blister from
scalding through veins.
Heartbeat a thrum,
pumping the bellows
lest sensation wane.
My heartstrings strum
to rising passion –
pleasure or pain –
one they become,
searching for outlet and
not in chains remain.
I just cannot get the poem out that’s crying for attention and release. Not how it wants to be anyway. So, this instead, to vent my frustration:
tumbling & grappling
vexing they vie
their merits pro-
twisted & entwined
defying my gumption
seceded allies they
conspire against me
these are my naughty
I am not “that girl”, no
Not me. I’m chaotic to
core and eclectic
in everything. The
full of weird forms
actions and words
to shock and
behind a sunny
turbulent soul and
haunting a mouth
that always is
Unravel me and
find hidden prize!
Home, I’m told, is
“where the heart
is”, but a life full of
many loves scattered
far and wide has
littered little heart
fragments and crumbs
which form many paths
that may be followed
in reverse to many a
place that once felt like
I’ve written this poem as a salutation and pledge to the new characters whose stories I’ll be telling, as I’ve begun a new prose project. Hopefully, someday, this will be a novel, one I’ll complete, as these characters and stories have been begging to be written for awhile now. with that, here it is:
With felicitous greetings I bid
welcome and salute you,
friends of mine new!
Together may our long journey
be pleasant and sweet,
with pages filled no small feat.
Sincerely now I make this pledge:
I shall strive to be, as litterateur,
always true to your story and character.
With caring tenderness, as a mother,
upon the page your lives I’ll create:
you’ll choose your gait, but I your fate.
As your creator, I will love and nurture,
be the navigator of your flight,
accompany you through every plight.
Thus you’ve received my salutation,
along with my honorable pledge;
I’ll not abandon no matter the depths we dredge.
Greetings and well met!
Let our pleasures be mutual as the
Muse guides us upon path.
Come, let us embark!