---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue of cc&d (v242) (the March / April 2013 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Guilt by Association cc&d 2013 collection book		get the 374 page Jan. - June 2013 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Please Come Home, All Is Forgiven

Bob Johnston

    I really shouldn’t complain too much. It was an easy life. I slept most of the time, sometimes straight through the day if nobody bothered me. I was fed whenever I was hungry, and my only duties were to strut around and purr once in a while and act grateful.
    I always liked to prowl at night, imagining I was a big jungle cat or maybe a wolverine, ready to pounce on my prey and sink my fangs into its soft flesh. But then I’d find that my prey was only a sleepy bird or an unwary gopher, and I’d be so disgusted that sometimes I just let it go.
    My main complaint was that I didn’t get any respect—not from my humans, not from our resident Scottie, and certainly not from that stupid Labrador next door, who always chased me up a tree whenever he got loose. Patronized or terrorized, nothing in between. That’s a hell of a way to treat someone who’s descended from Siamese royalty—well, at least on my mother’s side.
    One night last month, I climbed onto the roof and challenged the moon to a death-fight. Of course, it ignored me. I spent the rest of the night pacing around the roof, yowling my frustration.
    Three nights later, the rising moon was nearly full and blood-red. I stood on the peak of the roof and stared at the moon until its beams entered my body, coursing through my face and limbs like an electric shock. I felt great tufts of hair growing from my ears, and my paws became enormous pads. A surge of power ran through my body. I walked softly to the edge of the roof and saw Scottie in the back yard. In a single leap, I landed on his back and sank my fangs into his neck before he could make a sound. I dragged the body into the woods and ate my fill, leaving the rest for scavengers. I knew I should feel some remorse for killing Scottie; after all, we had grown up together. But he had become increasingly aloof, unwilling to acknowledge my existence. Never again would he ignore me.
    It was easy to slip back into my old body and resume my usual schedule of activities. However, I couldn’t bring myself to toady up to my humans; and when the big one tried to pet me, I hissed and clawed his hand. He cursed and tried to strike me, but I leaped to the top of the bookcase and stayed there all that day and night. Scottie’s disappearance remained a mystery; his body was never found.
    Last night, a full moon again called me to the roof. This time, the radiation made every hair on my body stand on end and crackle, and I could see that I was enveloped by a blue glow. I became a huge predator with a lithe, striped body, and I knew my name: Tiger. I leaped to the ground and over the fence into our neighbor’s yard, where their stupid Labrador was fast asleep. I seized him by the neck and shook the life out of him, then cleared the back fence in a single bound and carried the body deep into the woods. This time, I did not eat any of the meat, rather intending to leave the body for whatever jackals might be about.
    Actually, I felt nauseated, and I lay down alongside my kill and tried to sleep. I wanted desperately to get back into my old body, but my ears kept throbbing with a beat that said “Kill! Kill! Kill!” I had become the ultimate predator, and there was no turning back.
    I finally dropped off to sleep, waking only when the sun’s rays shone into the woods. I tried to arise but found that my body was wedged in between two trees. Gone was the lithe, striped body, replaced by something brown, lumpy, and scaly. I pushed the trees aside, stood up on my hind legs, and found that my head was on a level with the treetops. Balancing myself by my tail, I strode through the woods and across the field separating our house from the village. Somehow, I knew my name: Tyrannosaurus rex. My mission: to destroy the human race, just as they destroyed my ancestors.
    I raged up and down the village streets, killing whatever humans and animals I could find in the open. When no more were to be seen, I clawed my way into some of the flimsy structures and wiped out whatever life was inside. Then I prowled the streets again, all morning. Occasionally, I could hear popping noises and feel something tickling my skin, but nothing appeared in the open to challenge me.
    Tiring of the game, I left the village and strode down a path between two ribbons of concrete. There were no signs of life along the path, but some sort of flying reptile followed me, shooting darts that stung but failed to penetrate my hide.
    Finally, a large green creature moved into my path. A worthy adversary at last! Not nearly as tall as I, it hauled its fearsome bulk along the ground like a giant snail. My mighty roar shook the trees as I challenged it to close with me for a battle to the death. But the creature responded to my challenge with its own roar and a burst of flame from its mouth. It seemed impossible: I knew that dragons were mythical beasts. Then another roar, and the flame tore a hole in my chest.
    As I lay dying, my lifeblood oozing onto the ground, I heard the voice of my littlest human calling, “Kitty, please come home.”

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...