Note: The below short story was a random writing prompt. I can’t recall the actual challenge, so just kick back and enjoy.
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Someone once said life is like a box of chocolates. That was in my human life. The saying should have been my lives are like a box of chocolates, because I’ve had many of them and none of them as the same thing twice.
This particular chocolate came in the form of a feline—a bengal. It was a life of luxury and chaos, comfort and conflict, all wrapped up in a furry package with an incompetent owner. Kind of wish I was born a dog. As a cat, I knew my owner was an idiot. Dogs seemed so obliviously happy, I wanted to try it out.
“Bengy. Come here, Bengy,” my owner Dolores said, followed by ten to fifteen unique sucking sounds to get my attention. Dolores wasn’t all bad, I suppose. She once tried to feed me with food made of stones and quickly realized stones softened when served with warmed gourmet delight. I’ve almost forgiven her for that.
I didn’t budge. Talk to me with respect and I’ll reconsider. Bad enough you named me Bengy. I disliked her all the more for pronouncing my name Bengy like Ben-gee rather than ben-guy—far more proper.The old woman threw a spring at me and I pounced on it, tried to rip it to pieces, and threw it back in her face. She seemed to like that because we did it again—and again. When I got bored with her game, I did my rounds, ensuring nothing had changed in the crevices of the tiny apartment. I leaped onto the window ledge and scanned the neighbourhood. The nine balconies below me looked clear. Birds flew from trees across the street. I’ll see you later, Robin.
The next morning, during one of my rounds, Dolores plunged through the front door with a caged owl. At first I thought it was sacrificial, and nice of her to bring me a gift trapped in a cage, although I was a confident hunter. When I stalked over to cut its throat with my razor-like claw, which I’d sharpened on the couch end, Dolores flapped her free arm like she was showing the owl how to fly. When the beast made eye contact with me, it went full psycho, flapping its wings and screeching. Dolores fell back and landed on her ass, the cage flying out of her hands and crashing against the wall. The door popped open, and the owl went on the offensive. I charged to protect her, roaring like a lion to keep it at bay, waiting for an opportunity to kill it.
“Bengy, leave him alone,” Dolores shouted, but I ignored her. I was one with the room, with my killer instinct, and with a hairball I quickly hacked up, barely taking an eye off the owl.
Dolores rolled into my path, shaking her hands like she had baby rattles in them. That made no sense. I figured the owl had her in a trance, so I smacked her in the face repeatedly, trying to break its hold over her. Nothing worked. She shoved me away, oblivious of my efforts to save her. Owl magic is powerful.
The owl settled at the top of the bookcase. Its eyes were saucers, doing its best to capture me in the same spell, but I was stronger than Dolores. I dropped to my belly and crawled beneath the table for cover. I could hear the clicking of its claws as it searched for me. It hooted a few times—echolocation. I sharpened my claws with the chair fabric, waiting for the owl to settle long enough for me to get across the room and take a strategic angle.
I woke in darkness after a delicious nap. Perfect. Dolores and I loved hunting in the dark. She’d get out of bed throughout the night to stalk the apartment with me. She made a lot of noise, but I appreciated her efforts.
My power nap changed the game. The owl dangled from its cage near the sofa. Dolores must have come out of her trance and set this up—a test of my skill. I leaped to the top of the couch, making no noise except for nicking the lamp shade. The lightbulb shattering against the floor woke the owl. It went to work trying to trance me. No time to waste—situation volatile. With its enormous eyes locked on me, I thought I might be a goner any second. I’d never felt doubt before, but this owl was wicked.
I leaped for the cage, claws out, pointed at the owl’s throat. Missed it by a millimetre and fell, the cage swinging wildly. I tried again. He dodged my second attack, but I got enough of the cage to knock the latch free. He flew to the window and landed on the ledge. Dolores had left it open. If I hit it right, I could kill it and use its body to break the fall.
Dolores shouted from the other room. Don’t worry. I’m here for you, Dolores. No more time. It would trance her again if it saw her. I leaped onto the ledge. The owl flew out of reach but only by a few feet. I could make it. I sprang for the mid-air kill, clipping it with my nail. As I dropped to the ground, my eyes locked on my prey, I saw it fly off. I’d saved Dolores. At least I had that.
I should have spun around and landed on my feet, but there was no more time. I should have had eight more lives, but that’s not how a box of chocolate works, unless it’s full of the same flavor and I wouldn’t like that much.