Cat-tastrophe: Flash Fiction by Missy Frye

So, I needed a break from my novel and wanted to get some short stories ready for submission. However, my creativity apparently took a vacation. I went looking for some writing prompts to jumpstart something, anything fresh and this is what I came up with:

by Missy Frye

I should have never stopped to preen in front of the mirror. It just looked so regal with its walnut feet planted firmly in the lush carpet. I couldn’t resist the urge to see my variegated strands within its frame. My reflection prompted a daydream. I saw myself shining on a catwalk, cameras flashing, people clapping. They loved me because of my beauty.

My vanity is my undoing.

That darn cat came out of nowhere. The last time I saw him he was stretched out in a pool of sunlight on the kitchen floor. He’s known for his long naps. I never imagined he’d wake so soon. With stealth he approached without my notice and batted me under the bed; his large paw like a battering ram. Before I could regain my composure his teeth sank into me. He dropped me on the floor and batted me down the hallway. When I stopped rolling I tried to run. If only I had reached the refrigerator I could have wedged myself between it and the cabinet.

His speed and agility won out and those teeth sank into me a second time. He chewed for a few moments, not like chewing food though. More like he was trying to inflict pain. His long molars punctured me and his incisors pierced my delicate fibers. Humiliation and despair overtook me and I’m not sure what happened next. I’m fairly certain I took the place of that crazy feline’s catnip laden toy mouse for an extended period of time.

Now look at me. I’m unraveling, my S twist is starting to look like a Z twist and my fibers are fuzzy. My once yellow, green and white strands are no longer fit to become a well-loved gift.

I had such dreams. Dreams of becoming a baby blanket. Oh to swaddle a newborn, to feel soft baby skin next to my cotton fibers. It will never happen now. She will take one look at me and move on to the next ball of yarn. My dream has died.

Oh, Lord! What if she gives me to that loathsome cat as a toy?

Keep in mind this is a first draft, but writing this short piece cleared my mind and I’ve made some real progress on my projects. I might come back to this at some point in the future and flesh it out a bit more just for the heck of it.