Macavity stretched comfortably where he lay on top of the brick wall. The terracotta had soaked up the sun's heat and now radiated warmth into his belly. The sun baked his back. Encased in glorious warmth, he was as relaxed as a cat could be.
A scraping noise caught his attention, and he glanced down into the garden. The long-haired pollicle Bessie, Jemima's housemate, trotted out of the conservatory. Her delicate claws scratched a rhythm on the patio. As he watched, the bearded collie found a spot of shade, lay down in it and panted contentedly.
"Good morning to you, miss!" he greeted. "A fine day, is it not?"
"Fine indeed," the bitch replied, "but rather too warm for my liking." She fell silent, the better to pant, and Mac saw that she was, indeed, too hot.
"Where's Jemima?" he asked. Usually the kitten would be out here, chasing dandelion seeds or soaking up Sol's rays.
"Playing catch with a mouse on a string, my darling."
Mac nodded. Aware that Bessie wanted peace, he closed his eyes and returned to the silent luxury of the strong sunlight.
CATS
Hours later, night had fallen. The cloudless sky spread further than the feline mind could contemplate and displayed its stars and magnificent moon like a proud peacock. Jennyanydots sat on the bonnet of the old car wreck and contemplated those stars. But she didn't remain alone for long; a cat approached. She looked into the darkness. Macavity! she thought happily.
"Good evening, young tom!" she greeted, and the pair rubbed cheek glands. She looked him up and down and huffed. "Still as unkempt as ever," she scolded good-naturedly and licked the edge of his scruffy left ear. He leaned comfortably into her, enjoying the attention.
"You know me, milady," he smiled, and sat down to continue washing by himself. Jenny looked up at the stars again and he followed her gaze.
"So very beautiful. Utterly so," she mused.
"Without the shadow of a doubt," he said. "Without any shadow at all, in fact. They are made of perfect light." Jenny, he knew, loved nature, hence the poetic turn in his side of the conversation. He looked at her and saw wonder mix with excitement on her face. In empathy, he began to feel a wish to dance. He extended a paw. "Shall we?"
Jenny smiled and took his paw. Without another word, they danced, twirling and ducking, lifting and leaping, sometimes touching and sometimes not, as the stars shone down and the moon glowed.
CATS
The following afternoon was refuse collection day at the junkyard, the local restaurant industry's generous bounty. Mistoffelees hunted for unmoving prey among the scraps of paper and half-empty cans. The heap was fairly abuzz with feline life. Several of the jellicle tribe were here, picking through the mess in search of old biscuits, or fish bones, or dried-on meat in old tin cans - whatever tasty morsels they could find.
As Mistoffelees picked through the debris, he wondered to himself. Those humans who've just moved in two doors down; their pollicle looks a promising one. Staffordshire... never tried tapping a Staffordshire before. Are Staffs paranoid? Doesn't matter if they are. The usual sedative spell should do the trick. Is this edible? He picked up half a sausage, sniffed it, decided it was good to eat, and nibbled on it as he continued his thoughts. Hmm, yes. Staffs must be full of energy. I'll try. I'll try...
Victoria interrupted his thoughts. "Misto!" she said, and he turned to her. She stumbled, caught her feet in a mass of plastic bags, and tripped over. She fell forward and he caught her just in time.
He put her back on her feet. "Hello, Vic. Is everything all right?" he asked. Victoria was his full sister, although she came from a subsequent litter and as a result was a little younger. She was a little chubby as befitted slightly immature kittens, and her fur, 'though clean enough, looked perpetually dirty due to a throwback tabby gene. He loved her, his clumsy, clean-but-grimy-looking little sister.
"I can't find anything to eat!" she complained, slightly tearful with frustration.
Mistoffelees looked at the partially-eaten sausage fragment, and promptly decided he'd had enough of it. "In which case, feel free to take this," he replied. She took it, looked at it as if it were the best thing she'd found all week, and began to gnaw on it. "Now," he continued, "There is much I would like to do, so I'll see you later. Bye for now, little sister." He kissed the top of her head and she wriggled.
"Bye bye!" she replied, and, smiling, he turned to head toward his hideout. He had much to do...
CATS
MaCavity watched Victoria gaze after her brother. Eventually she turned away and sought out her friends. Hmm... he thought as he considered the band of kittens. There were four in the core group: Victoria, Jemima, Etcetera and Electra. Electra was the leader of the group. Young but strikingly confident, she was the one who usually decided on the small band's activities for the day. Her inevitable naivete sometimes led them all into trouble, but she was a brave one. Mac afforded himself a wry grin as she took an interest in Victoria's meaty morsel.
Jemima, the smallest, was a patchy little kitten. The only one born to her mother, Electra had taken her under her wing and taught her the cossetting delights of sisterhood. It was clear even now that Jemima would grow to be a beauty, and she was already slim and lithe. Fast reflexes and great flexibility added to the kitten prodigy. She was the envy of the kitten group.
The sausage had been demolished, and Etcetera - a high-energy little kitten - took the opportunity to play. As Victoria sat and washed her paws, Etcy pounced on her, knocking the hapless Victoria to the ground. Mac noticed irritation and hurt flicker across Vic's features, but clearly the tabby-and-white had no time to voice her annoyance, because Etcetera bowled her over again, tumbling and wrestling and laughing.
They rolled close to Mac and he backed away. Etcetera, still laughing, cried out, "Macca! Help me pin her down!"
But Mac wasn't interested. "Kittens, please! Let me be!" he replied good-naturedly. But firmly. Vic began to protest at Etcy, and Mac decided he really didn't want to be a part of the kittens' latest fallout. If Victoria felt strongly enough about it, she'd learn to cope. Mac leapt away and climbed up the hill of rubbish to see what else was around.
Just outside the junkyard, Mac saw Mistoffelees walk alone. He seemed to be going somewhere. Idly curious, Mac decided to follow the magical cat.
CATS
Mistoffelees approached his hideaway, and as he did so, thought ahead to his plan.
Magic took energy, but it also took concentration. Therefore, an enchanted creature was not encouraged to draw off his own energy supply when performing magical feats. It was best to use the energy of another creature. Mistoffelees liked to use dogs for this: their energy felt different so he could compartmentalise it within his body without getting muddled between it and his own, and some dogs had seemingly endless supplies of it. All in all, they were perfect for the task. It was also much of the basis for the widely-known rivalry between felids anad canids.
Terriers worked best. The news that a pair of Staffordshire bull terriers had moved into a house on his street, therefore, was excellent news. But in order to siphon energy from them, he first needed to cast an invisibility spell, and for that, he needed to visit his hideout.
Presently he arrived. He swept aside the netting that served as a screen and passed into the darkness. Inside, he found a rack of dried plants. He ground the leaves from a few, catching them in his paw. He mixed them together and placed them in the middle of the floor. There, he muttered an incantation that combined with the spiritual influences of the herbs and dimmed him. He honed the spell, adjusting and amplifying its effects, until he'd reached optimum invisibility.
That done, he left. The Staffs would have no idea he was there...
CATS
MaCavity kept himself hidden as he watched the entrance to Misto's hideout. Misto had gone in, but there was no way Mac could get closer without being rumbled. So instead, he sat down, unsure of what to do next. Within a few minutes, the netting that obscured the entrance swished to one side. Mac didn't see anybody come out, but he was in no doubt that Misto had just left. Well, there was no possibility of Mac following him now!
So he decided to wait a few moments. Finally, he suspected that Mistoffelees must have gone some distance away. What now?
It occurred to Mac then, that Misto's hideaway was a source of great mystery to him. He didn't know what magic the tom kept in there, but he bet there were some amazing things! What did magic cats use, anyway? Could Misto read? Did he keep books in there? And crystals! Were crystals really magic, as the stories told? Were they as beautiful as he'd heard? Were there symbols scratched on paper, and talismans, and, and...
Mac decided at that moment to look. Just one short peek wouldn't hurt, would it? He looked around again - he didn't know why, because if Misto was around at all, he'd probably still be invisible - and then trotted down toward the entrance. He swept back the curtain and ducked inside.
He found himself in darkness. His pupils dilated quickly and before long, he was able to clearly see the room around him. It was a disappointment. A long piece of string had been wound around rusty bars at each end of the room and, tied to them were upside-down herbs. A human child's jewellery box sat in the corner, a battered sculpture of a ballerina on top. A metal keyhole stared at him from the front of the box. He shivered and looked around a little more.
A flat plank sat on two bricks, making a cat-sized table. There were objects on there, and Mac looked at them. Most were boring plant things, but one item was different. It was a sculpture; he picked it up. Made from some kind of stone, it looked like a mask. Or rather, half a mask. One angry, feline eye glared back at him, and half a mouth roared silently, lips peeled back in bare aggression, one fang glinting in the meagre light. Mac decided it was creepy and put it down. Well, there's not much here, he decided.
Suddenly he began to feel he was intruding. At once convinced that he could feel the empty eye of the lock behind him and the glare of the half-mask, he made directly for the exit.
Once out in the open air, Mac kept walking at high speed, paranoid now that Mistoffelees might have been watching him all along; who else's eyes could he feel on him right now? Certainly no mask's, and even less so the hole in a lock! Gasping in great draughts of cool evening air, he scrambled over the last of the rubbish and out onto the street, where he dropped onto all fours just in time before a human walked by.
"Oh hello, kitty-cat." A hand came down and rubbed his chin, and he stopped to catch his breath while the human petted him. I was just being paranoid... I was just being paranoid, he told himself.
CATS
MaCavity felt the nylon covering of his bed as he sleepily turned over, the material patchy with cool exposed areas, and areas previously warmed by his own mammalian heat. He briefly opened his eyes and saw the dark-blue-background-with-fishbones pattern of his basket, and then closed them again as he drifted into sleep.
He looked down toward the ground. It was a long way away. He was dimly aware that either he didn't have legs, or they were tucked very tightly beneath him, but that didn't seem to matter for now; only the scene below did. Dark feline shapes squirmed, their emaciated ribs and bony elbows disproportionately clearly visible despite the distance. Mac couldn't tell whether they were writhing in agony or participating in some kind of cult dance. They were laying on their sides as they moved, but there seemed something communal, something... gleeful in their actions.
A pair of eyes from the throng caught his attention and he looked at them. Although there were two eyes, only one was easy to see, and it glowed with a lifeless, amber light. Its owner was saying something, although mac couldn't tell what it was. Then he realised the other cats had started to chant.
Mac felt afraid, and tried to get away. It was only then he realised that, although he had legs - and at this he was relieved - they were immobile, clamped to the underside of his body as if he was laying down. He tried to straighten them, move them, but they wouldn't shift. Fearful of what the leader-cat would do, he sought him out again.
The cat's face seemed to have disintegrated, and broken diagonally into two halves. The upper half appeared ready to fall off, although the cat didn't seem to care. It was speaking to him, and Mac strained to hear the words.
It was no use. The cat just wasn't audible. Immobile, Mac hung in the air and stared at the leader-cat with growing horror, not knowing what to do. With shocking suddenness, the top half of the cat's face broke off and shot towards him, like a falling object, only upwards. Despite his fear, Mac tried to remember where he'd seen something like that before - it seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it - before it hit him.
He didn't know where it went, but when it touched him he felt an explosion of power. Pure and forceful, it spread into every part of his body, into his claws and the complex parts inside his ears, the tips of his hairs and the sharp points of the tips of his teeth. The power was all-consuming, for a moment, it was everything.
But he understood one thing: it was not his power. It was inside him, but it was not his to wield; he was cut off from being able to use it. At the moment he realised this was true, the power burst like a firework; he felt a jolt of shock akin to his heart exploding and he woke, panting.
He was laying in his basket, body splayed skewed as if he'd been trying to wriggle free of something. It had been a nightmare, there was nothing to be afraid of. Just a nightmare. Fear still coursing in the background rhythm of his body like a second heartbeat, Mac gripped his stuffed rat toy and curled up a little, stretching his legs out in front of him. Although he knew there was nothing to be afraid of in the dark, he buried his face into the toy and hid from the darkness around him that felt singularly oppressive.
He dozed after that, but no other dreams came to him.
CATS
"Miaow!" Mac protested as his owner picked a slice of toast from the toaster and dropped it, hurriedly, on her plate. "Miaow!" He wanted to go outside, to seek the company of other cats. His dream the previous night still unsettled him and he needed, unusually, to be among his own kind.
"Alright little man, alright!" she snapped and came over to the door, turning the lock and opening it. Mac slipped through the gap before she'd fully opened it and began his trip to the junkyard, just hearing the words, "I'll look for a flat with a catflap next time, okay..?" as he left.
He leapt up onto the top of the brick wall and trotted along its spine, and as he did, he thought about that nightmare the night before. What did it mean? Did it have to mean anything? That evil cat-leader; he didn't know anybody like that. It certainly hadn't been Old Deuteronomy, or even Munkustrap, 'though Munkustrap was of a closer age.
And then, just as Mac got to the end of the wall, he came to an abrupt stop. He'd just remembered the part where the cat's face had slammed into him. That had been Mistofellees' stone mask! My goodness, Mac thought. He suddenly felt a great deal more relaxed; so the nightmare had been a product of nothing but his unnerved feelings about having sneaked into Misto's cave. Well, that made him feel much better.
He leapt down to the concrete and carried on to the junkyard, his tail held high and his spirits fortified.
CATS
Mungojerrie walked casually alongside his sister, thinking ahead to their planned day of thievery. It would be fun, and it would (hopefully) be profitable. Rumpelteazer knew what to do; they'd talked over their respective parts in this heist. He glanced over at her to see her glancing back, a naughty grin lighting up her face.
A cat rounded the corner. "Morning, you two," MaCavity announced sunnily. Mungojerrie switched his attention from his sister to the ginger tom. He seemed happy to see them.
"Awright, mate?" he greeted. Mac rubbed his flank against Mungo's and was promptly sandwiched in by Rumpelteazer joining in on the other side. Poor Mac! He doesn't deserve both of us ganging up on 'im! Mungo chuckled at the slightly absurd situation.
Mac squirmed as he was enclosed by the two cats and purred briefly, then looked around in surprise at Mungo's laugh. He seemed to take the laugh as a reminder that this was a strange situation, and joined in with the hilarity. With no further words, Mac swished his tail in an approximation of a 'see you later', and trotted on into the junkyard.
Mungo found time to wonder what it was about MaCavity that seemed different today, shrugged, and caught up with Rumpel.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Hello readers.
I have been keen to put out this first chapter in the story, so am unsure quite when I'll next post. However, I hope this taster/opening chapter has whetted your appetite. There is certainly much more to come, and I hope that in time, I will bring more of it to fruition. Until then, I would love to know what you think of this initial part. Constructive criticism will be welcome, so by all means tell me your thoughts via the review button below.
Thank you for your kind co-operation.