Writing Prompt

Jasper started the day as usual with a mug of steaming hot coffee to wake himself up. While his was waiting for the coffee to kick in he busied himself with opening a tin of cat food for Micah. As he turned round to put the food in his bowl he stopped, noticing that Micah hadn’t touched his dinner from the night before. Something was very wrong! Usually Micah would be all over Jasper when he heard his food being opened. Where was that cat? Come to think of it, Jasper hadn’t seen Micah all morning. He grabbed a bag of cat treats from the shelf and began shouting Micah's name in an attempt to lure him out of hiding. Jasper looked out the kitchen window half expecting to see a ginger streak in the garden as his tabby cat came bounding in to the get a treat. Where was he?

A blonde guy who Jasper had never seen before came stumbling into the room, yawning. "Mornin'" he mumbled. The men stared at each other, confused for a few moments before finally regaining their senses. Jasper was the first to move. He instinctively dropped his hand to the counter top, looking for something to defend himself with. His hand closed around thehandle of something, a knife? When he pulled his hand up, he realised that he had picked up a spatula, not a knife. Hardly a very intimidating weapon but it would have to do. Jasper swung the spatula in what he hoped was an Intimidating fashion yelling: "Get the hell out my house!" The Intruder stared at Jasper wide eyed. The ginger cat ears on top of the guy's head which Jasper had thought was just some weird accessory, pricked up. "Jasper, wait! It’s me! It’s Micah!”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about, actually.” Jones lifted his right hand in front of his face and regarded his palm, displeased.

His eyes still twinkled in his head like almond stars; the corners of his mouth curved upward in a cruel, sneering smile. Again he turned those beautiful, bright eyes towards me.

“You’ll still feed me of course,” he said authoritatively, “but none of that canned nonsense, I’d favour fresh meat. I can still catch it, but you must prepare it for me. I fear the constitution of a people may not be up to much.”

“Jones I’m a vegetarian,” I protested somewhat pathetically, “I can feed you the meat from the cans but if you want more than that you’ll have to prepare it yourself.” Jones looked disgruntled. “And you certainly can’t just go around killing things now if you’re a human, it just won’t do.”

My head was spinning. The feet of the wooden kitchen chair scraped piercingly as I slumped heavily into it. I rubbed my aching brow with both hands and looked up again, in disbelief, at the impossible figure before me.

He was tall and lithe. He certainly didn’t look like a cat any more, but there was something that was quite more than human about him too. His eyes looked annoyed and slightly wild. As he glared at me the look changed from anger to pity.

“Silly people,” he spat the words through gritted teeth, “I’ll bring you meat and you’ll prepare it, that is what will happen.” He nodded curtly, satisfied at his own solution to what had seemed for a moment to be a most bothersome situation. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his tight white jeans and swaggered gracefully towards the window.

Jones gazed deeply across the grass, which was in need of a good haircut, towards the fence that divided ours from the neighbour’s garden. “I always knew this would happen,” he said after a deep breath, “evolution you see.” He turned casually to face me and mischief sparkled in his eyes. “I’m evolving, you see,” he announced, puffing his chest out with pride. I swallowed my laugh and listened on astounded at his boastful reproach. “Yes, people, you have reached the end of your journey. You can grow no more,” he scoffed, “we will be taking things from here.” He turned slowly again to the window and continued the speech without looking at me. “We will bring you the food and you will prepare it. You will tickle our ears and care for us or you will be the food.”

I was dumbfounded, I could not find the words to respond to this, and Jones was not going to give me the opportunity anyway. “Now,” he continued, turning to me somewhat dismissively, “if you’ll excuse me...”

I sat in the kitchen, staring into space aghast. From the utility room adjacent came the sound of scratching gravel...

“Pain. Food. Sleep. Repeat. Is that all life is?,” Barked the severely malnourished and life deprived creature. “QUIET! I don’t want as much as another peep out of you dexter!” A young, bulky woman belches as she kicks a sickly old dog out into the rain. The dog struggled to get back on all fours, but the woman didn’t care to wait. She hastily slammed the door. He only sought out a life away from the cage and utterly monotonous path his owner, Loraine, willingly chose for him. There was nothing he wanted more than pure freedom. He was a terrier and noticed that humans lusted to be his owner. But that’s about the only thing he’s been able to make sense of his world. It seemed like decades ago that he was a star, appearing in countless pageants and other prestigious activities. He had it all, the looks, the wits, the money, and the treats. But the one the thing he never could dream of getting hold of was his owners approval. Dexter was young and had an endless amount of energy just waiting to be tapped into, but now dexter’s barely able to complete the trite tasks that his owner requires of him. A car same by with blindingly bright lights, leaving him blinded and dazed for longer than he should’ve been. Out of the corner of his eye he spots a dark figure coming closer and closer. “Why does it matter of this guy gets me. I’ve had it good enough. This isn’t the ideal place to go, but at least I’ll meet my owner in hell.” Dexter continued to think. The figure stopped in its tracks. “You’ve met a tragic fate, haven’t you?” Dexter started to squirm as if frightened by the presence of this being. But he found he couldn’t move, yet he was becoming strangely relaxed. “I’ve never met a creature of your kind bred to be so... so spiteful... It’s quite interesting,” No human had ever been able to notice dexters genuine personality traits. But for all he knew it could just be another stranger like the ones on the stage studying him. “I’ve seen fates much worse but none quite as well timed as yours.” The figure revealed itself to have a paper white complexion. His eye sockets were empty and he was wearing a hood. “I have a human body that needs to be tested and your soul is a perfect fit. I shall grant you an eternity in paradise if you follow my exact instructions. If you fail, your soul will return to purgatory.” The man placed his skeletal hand over dexters nearly lifeless body. The moon began steadily moving out of sight. The sky began to lighten. As the man began to fade away he said his instructions. “Kill. Your. Master.” Dexter got up and walked on two feet back to his owner. He rang the doorbell. As she answered he sank his teeth into her neck