A Cats the Musical Fanficiton by Starski. ©

Cats the Musical © Andrew Lloyd Webber & T.S Elliot.

Many a Low Resort.

Prologue.

It had been 11 months since Demeter had joined the Jellicle Tribe, and the junkyard had quickly become her utopia. She could remember the day she'd arrived here as if it were yesterday, every little detail still crisp in her mind, every thought that had ran through her brain that day was still there in her head, hidden in a nook at the furthermost region of her mind. It had been the longest day in her lifetime, she recalled, and rain had painted the sky an obnoxious shade of monotonous grey and slated the ground with the distorted reflections of many faces that at the time were new and unrecognisable; now they were the façades of her family. She had never felt so surrounded by warmth, love and hope. The golden queen had never before known such friendliness and sweetness, and to be shown it with such readiness – well, it had touched her heart in an instant and she had never since been the same cat.

She was alone now. The moon was bright in the sky and the stars glittered in faint comparison. Head bowed in prayer, her eyes half-closed in a moment of reflection and mouth opened in a cry of bliss, Demeter took the time she had with the night's sky to send thoughts and hopes and wishes to those she knew would listen: "Heavyside," she whispered softly, lips chapped and dry as the words rolled off her tongue with a raspy echo, a plea for solidarity. Her mouth opened again, jaw agape as if willing the words that were on her mind to tumble out, though no sound came. The queen sighed gently, curling up her paws beneath her and just hoping that the heavens could see into her mind and draw forth the thoughts that lay there in torment, trusting her ancestors to make some sense out of the muddled state of her mind. Finally after deciding she had sat dormant long enough she pulled herself to her paws and leant her weight forwards, limbs stretching out as her spine rippled upwards in a typical feline stretch that caused her fur to part in raised interrupted tufts of white and black along her back. "Goodnight, Everlasting Cat." She spoke gently after standing fully upright, gaze glassy yet tender as can be as she surveyed the stars she could practically name one by one. Demeter stood, turned, and ran swiftly along the tin surface of the rusting refrigerator hidden away at the back of the junkyard, the peak of the highest pile of debris. As carefully as she could she picked her way down the huge tower of scrap metal, her paws scraping iron and steel and wire as she finally reached the trodden down path of aluminium cans that paved the way to the main centre of the junkyard where every year, for one night only, the Jellicle Ball would take place.

It was on that fateful evening last year that the golden girl and her sister had arrived here.

Snapping her attention back to the present Demeter spotted the faint silhouette of a cat sat on the car bonnet, backlit so only the fluffy outlines of their ears were visible against the multitude of washed out objects that the night had stolen colour from. However the female knew this time that the darkness had not changed the shade of this Cat's pelt – the barely visible stripes along large, angular ears told her that this was Munkustrap keeping watch over the tribe he protected so diligently. He often did that. He'd sit and talk to the stars as if they were sentinels, and she would be seated with him. They would chatter together, they would mutter to the heavens and every once in a while the heavens would answer back.

Tonight, Demeter decided, would be one of those nights.

"Munkustrap," she purred gently, approaching him from behind and letting her tail fall to the side to rest against his back as she passed him to sit beside his right flank, paws tucked neatly underneath her. The grey tom flicked an ear to acknowledge that he heard her, though his eyes were closed tight, unable to see. Where some cats may have found this rude, Demeter found it entrancing: she knew him well enough to understand that he would never dismiss her in such a way unless he was lost in thought, important thought. There was silence for a few minutes, but her wait did not last long; "Deme, it's late. Why are you up?"

His voice was gentle enough to cause her to smile but the content was laughable enough to cause that smile to be broken by a quiet giggle. "I didn't know I'd been given a curfew." She chuckled gently, voice husky and words only just audible as the she-cat brought up a paw to brush past her white whiskers as Munkustrap turned his dark head to watch her, his body still motionless. The cool way he regarded her made the female come to her senses, and quietly she fell still too. She already knew he had interpreted her teasing remark as a comment of derision, so she made haste to fill the silence. "I was craving some alone time so I took a walk – am I disturbing you?"

"No."

A pause, followed by the face of the tom creasing with previously concealed delight.

"I quite enjoy your company, Demeter."

This elicited another grin from the lustrous feline who edged closer to him with a small titter. "I know."

They grew closer and closer until their shoulders were touching, and ever so softly Munkustrap began to hum a gentle tune into her ear as he ran his raspy tongue over the very soft fur that lay flat just behind them. The night had not gone how Demeter had planned – they were not talking to the stars, they were barely even talking to one another! They were content and lost in the quiet that their fellowship brought and all at once that sense of inner peace she had felt when praying came rushing back, and she was happy.

"Munk-"

"Shh."

"Munku!" Demeter pulled away slowly, eyes wide with joy and sadness – a fusion of two juxtaposed emotions. "I better go, don't want Bomba worrying about me: you know how she can be." With a flick of the tip of her tail and a howl of the wind, she began to pivot away after receiving a crestfallen nod from her friend, who seemed to understand even if he didn't wish to. "Goodnight Demeter."

"G'night!" she called over her shoulder, though most of the sound was swept away by the breeze that was increasing in strength every second. It was not long until she was inside the den she shared with her sister being bombarded with grumpy, lethargically voiced questions about where she had been and who she'd been with and why in heavyside's name she had thought it okay to barge in at this hour and disturb Bombalurina's always important beauty sleep. With a sigh she answered that she had just been alone, and after a series of disapproving scoffs from her sibling Demeter was finally given the chance to fall asleep without the well-meant abuse from her sister falling upon uncaring ears. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slipped away into slumber.

Okay, this is just a very short prologue to a story I may or may not be continuing. I started work on it last summer and decided to fix up some plot holes and actually try and make something creative out of it: I hope you enjoy it! Constructive Criticism and Reviews of all kinds are very welcome. (: