I see Him beside What was once a grave of stone Broken from His shroud

And He was walking Above the waves around us Reaching out a hand

The land we were in Promised so long ago then He has come down here

Rome oppresses us And we have cried out to Him There He stands again

A woman reaches Briefly grazing His tunic And she is healed

One day they will bow But for now we are hated Just as He has been

An inquisitive little creature with a long, winding tail. Eyes sparkling with curiosity. Sitting in a prim and proper position, but always alert for any danger that may be near.

I wonder what his name was. Perhaps something strong, like Prince or Rufus. Commanding authority amongst his peers. Maybe a practical name, Orange or Fish. His color or his favorite snack might have been a good fit. I am most convinced that he would have been given a more cutesy name though, Sweetie or Dumpling.

I turn the page and a few paragraphs appear. Apparently these cats domesticated themselves, and replicated their ‘meows’ from the cry of human babies. Ah, cats must have been the most intelligent of all animals. Probably more than us.

I wonder who the last cat was. What did it look like? Did it like frolicking in the sun, or did it prefer sleeping the day away? Did he have a peaceful end, an infinite dream? Or was his death unpleasant? An awful disease. A life cut too short. On this page it says that the longest recorded life of a cat was a total of 38 years. But most cats did not live this long, the average was 14 years. Such little time.

Cats came in various colors, shapes, sizes, and patterns. They also came with various personalities, likes, dislikes, social tolerance, and favorite places to be pet.

Cat offspring, who are called kittens, can all be different colors… the mother cat can mate with several different males…

It also says here that kittens are born with closed eyes. They knew their mother’s warmth before ever knowing her face.

Did the last cat remember his mother’s warmth when he closed his eyes? Did he draw back to the first few weeks with her? Only needing to rely on her milk. Laying beside her, putting his full trust into her, knowing instinctively that she will protect him. Did he close his eyes and wait for her to save him? Did he close his eyes and remember her face?

I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to this. I suppose it is the same for us. I’ve heard people cry out for their own mothers before death. We also crave warmth.

One day there will be one human left. We are closer an closer to that day with each rise and fall of the sun.

We aren’t very different from a cat.

My faith has passed me by I cannot find my heart Each day has come alive But night brings me apart

I saw her once above O Lady where have you gone Away from me unloved Where has my mind has drawn?

I wanted you here to stay To give myself some hope Just as you gave yourself away But my betrayal feels like that rope

Am I to be that Judas? To turn my back to you Or perhaps it will be Brutus Stabbing you through and through

But please O Lord I implore I have asked more than once But why do you choose to ignore Were my prayers not enough?

I am not sure if you are there Though if you are I would have to say I do not think you care For there are better gods to pray

And just like that he is here again. Watching. When I was a child I once asked my mother if we could invite him in but she said, “No! You can never let that thing in. He will do unspeakable things.” I obeyed her words and considered it again. That is, until today.

It was a normal morning. I had drank my first coffee of the day. I turned on some cooking show as background noise. Beginning to make my father’s breakfast and sort out his many pills I fell into my daily routine. The days blend together they’re all the same.

A crash sounded from outside. I thought it was another stray cat looking through the garbage. I was wrong.

I looked out the window showing the alley. A canvas been knocked over with its contents spilling onto the ground. I gave a sigh of annoyance and necessity. But when I stepped out into the sun everything changed.

Everything around me was different. No longer were there apartment buildings with rickety fire escapes, the smell of tobacco smoke from several neighbors, or the sound of cars going past. Instead there was a meadow with grass almost as tall as me but all yellow and dead. Above I saw a clear blue sky instead of the typical storm clouds and power lines. But what made me know that I wasn’t at home anymore was the sound. There was none. Not the familiar sounds I’ve become accustomed to nor the sounds one would associate with the great outdoors. The tall yellow grass moved yet I couldn’t feel the wind pushing against me.

There it was. A… butterfly? I didn’t usually see any but this didn’t look like a regular butterfly. It glowed in a color like my mother’s eyes, blue and green all mixed up. And instead of flapping its wings it glided like an airplane.

I needed to know where it was going. I followed the creature for what felt like miles and I never tired. I walked for hours but my feet never hurt.

Through this tall yellow grass we went. And when I stumbled I looked up and it was still. It didn’t move again until I was steady. Then we kept going.

More walking and more hours but I never felt the need to stop. I realized that the day’s light never changed. When I raised my head to the sky there was no sun.

I went to focus my attention on the butterfly but it was no longer there. Had I lost it? Then I blinked and was met with the sight of something else. Him. The odd man my mother warned me about. The one who would watch our house once a year every year growing up. I hadn’t remembered to look for him in so long I had almost forgotten what he looked like. But right then it all came back to me.

“What are you doing here?” I heard myself say. Confusion and wondering clouded my mind but never fear.

He said nothing. Perhaps he was incapable. Then he pointed up to the sky. I blinked again and I now I’m home.

My father is having a coughing fit again.

I’ll leave the back door open.

When I enter I’m immediately surrounded by so many sounds and sights. Flashing colors, drunken laughter, suits with ties long forgotten, glasses clinking, and rolling dice.

I head towards the back of the floor, determination fueling my steps. I’m meeting the contact Renny set up. I was only able to get this meeting after reminding him of the favors I’ve given him that have put myself on the line.

There she sits. Conventionally attractive is the best way to describe her. She’s the type of woman I would picture in a place like this. Blondes in skin-tight emerald dresses and red lipstick are perfect for it.

“Mary Gleaner.” She says in a sultry voice, confident smirk on her lips. She lifts her hand to take a puff of the cigarette she holds. She knows my name. I wonder what else Renny told her about me.

“You must be Farrah,” I reply “I hope I haven’t disrupted your schedule.”

She looks right through me. Bored but obligated to be here.

“No I’m doing this as a favor to a friend. Keeping these relationships up is my highest priority.”

I manage a nod and start pulling out the files from my bag. They’re heavy with the amount of contents inside. Farrah watches now in curiosity but still keeping her air of above-ness.

I open the first folder and slide it across to her. She finally puts that cigarette out to take a look. Her expression changes for the first time to mild horror and disgust, flipping through the many photos.

“Why am I seeing these? Don’t you have people that get paid for this?” After finishing the look through.

I let out a sigh.

“We have no idea who did this or why. We’ve tried everything. I came to Renny as a last resort. I think you or one of your coworkers might know the person responsible.”

She leans towards me with a look on her face that asks why I’m speaking to her. “Do you know how much this could jeopardize me?” She seethes.

“Yes I do,” I coolly answer, “and I also know what the consequences will be if you don’t comply. Amanda Farrah Wellis, we have so much on you that a judge wouldn’t give you less than 25 in maximum security prison with all the crimes you’ve committed over the past decade.”

I lean forward and in a whisper say, “If you ever want to see the light of day again, I would consider that you obey.”

Farrah’s face shows only anger and contempt but I know she has no other option but to do as I say.