To Lose

Aunt Lisa left Gregor home with Floxie, the demon cat, and a pot of potato soup. A light drizzle had started up, a storm thundering in from the east, but she promised she’d be back with cornbread mix in two quick shakes. Whatever that meant.

Gregor was hard on his aunt, but seriously what kind of person leaves their nephew home alone days after his parents dissappeared? Plus his aunt collected taxidermy. Who hangs dead animals as decoration? And there was the slight problem Aunt Lisa called Floxie, that Gregor justly dubbed the Devil.

Our subject is the sneaky orange feline whose every action Aunt Lisa finds adorable. The demon cat perched on the stuffed bodies of his fellow cat family to clean himself, which Gregor found highly disrespectful; and sometimes at night when Gregor paused while getting into bed, Floxie would stick her head out from under the bedskirt and bite his ankles.

Now Gregor stirred the soup while Floxie napped on one of the stuffed lions. Outside there was a boom, and the power flicked off. Transformer blew, Gregor thought as he shivered. As soon as the power went off, it felt like the cold immediately seeped in.

Bah-boom, bah-boom.

What was that?

Before Gregor realized, he was under his bed hiding, just like in elementary school when the branches scratching against the window sounded just like a murderer trying to break in.

Drip drip drip.

Somewhere a leak has penetrated the protection of the roof. But underneath his bed, Gregor believes he is safe. Ignoring Floxie’s yellow gaze, Gregor digs in the pocket of his father’s moth eaten sweater for a granola bar.

After he’s eaten he lays his head down, just for a second. As he drifts to sleep, he barely notices the absense of Floxie.

He awoke with creases from the wooden planks etched into his cheeks, and covered in a cold sweat.

Drip drip drip drip.

Gregor slid out from under the musty bed and into the crisp air. His belly rumbled, and he crept down the hallway, his thoughts centered on the potato soup and whether or not it was still edible.

Drip drip. Drip drip drip.

Gregor froze. The leak was coming from the bathroom. Helpful as ever, he ventured in to turn off the sink. But the sink wasn’t on. A quick look in the mirror confirmed the dissarrayed state of his hair. Ah, well.

He pulled back the shower curtain, but the faucet wasn’t leaking. There, hung on the shower head like a discarded towel, hung the demon cats body.

Written on the white tiled wall, in Floxie’s own blood;

You will be next.

Miles away from home with a backseat full of groceries, Aunt Lisa taps her fingernails on the wheel, and hopes that Gregor is alright. She’s called City Maintenace, and the drowsy voice on the other end of the phone informed her they couldn’t get a tree removal crew out until morning. So Lisa sat and stared at the fallen oak that blocks her path.

Tomorrow morning she’ll zip home and throw open the door, snapping her stale cinnamon gum as she calls out for Gregor and Floxie. Neither will answer, they will have already dissappeared without a trace. Aunt Lisa will be all alone. Until she finds The Gift.