This week I’m working on a 1,500 word story for Skrawl Comix Magazine #1 so I’m cheating (again) and giving supporters an exclusive read of the first 550ish words. Shhh, don’t tell anyone.
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MISSING – BLACK CAT
The posters were everywhere. On lampposts, in the corner-shop window, even on trees. Billy couldn’t stand to look at them, and here was a brand new one, practically right outside his front door.
The paper tore much more loudly than he’d expected, the poster ripping in half instead of pulling cleanly away from the tree-trunk where it had been stapled. The sound was like an angry hiss and seemed to carry all along the empty street. Billy crumpled the ragged pieces of poster in his fist, then threw it hard. The wind caught the ball before it could land, changing its course. Billy saw the paper snatched up into the air, only to sail back over his head. It smacked into the upstairs window of a house a few doors down from his own. Carla’s house. Two bright green eyes were staring down at Billy from the bedroom. Watching him.
A week earlier, the sun was already setting as Billy made his way home from Jake’s house. The pair had enjoyed a glorious, lazy Saturday together; playing X-Box, sharing a litre of lemonade, and a whole family pack of crisps. Jake lived on an estate built at the top of a hill, and Billy’s house was at the bottom. Pedalling up to Jake’s was an exhausting half-hour, but Billy knew from years of experience that it was worth the effort for the eleven minutes of high-speed freewheeling back down again. He was already halfway home, his coat flying out behind him like a cape as he sped downhill, when Billy saw the cats.
There were six or seven of them on the overgrown strip of land which ran down the middle of the dual carriageway. The cats were lounging round in a rough circle there among the long grass and dandelions. Billy still didn’t know why he did what he did next.
He steered to his right. His bike bumped off the curb, cruised diagonally across two trafficless lanes, then bumped up again. The uncut, damp grass slowed him down a little, so he started pedalling. Hard. Billy sped towards the cats as fast as he could. As he drew near, he thought he recognised some of them from the neighbourhood. One turned to look at him. It was the big, green-eyed tabby which belonged to Carla, the girl who lived three doors down from him. It was at that moment Billy realised he’d made a mistake, but it was already too late.
They scattered as Billy’s bike hurtled towards them. Some ran uphill, some ran down, some ran to his left, but one – a long, lean, pitch-black cat – ran to his right. Straight into the oncoming traffic. A car horn blared. Breaks squealed. There was another sound. One which Billy tried his very best not to remember now.
Billy didn’t stop. He pedalled harder than ever, his heart thumping in his chest. As he rattled downhill towards home, Billy overtook Carla’s green-eyed tabby still bounding along. The cat hissed fiercely as he passed, and for a moment Billy was terrified it would give chase.
The posters had started appearing around the neighbourhood a couple of days later.
MISSING – BLACK CAT
Billy hadn’t called the number written across their bottom. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened. What he’d done. Only he knew.
Only him, and the cats.