Flash Fictions by Benjamin D. Togate

The Cats

When the fullmoon rose they came to him.

The cats. The cats with glowing eyes and souls made of water. He didn't know why. But he just went with it. Everytime the fullmoon rose it was time to get dressed, climb up the roof and become one with his group of furry friends. They climed over roofs, jumped over gaps between buildings and listened to the sounds of the sleeping city below.

He was their protector and they were his liberators. These days he spent his time inside. The outside world wasn't for him. In school he was bullied. His parents knew only criticism. Even the shop clerk around the corner was rude and abrupt whenever he visited. So he stopped going out. Stopped going to school. He didn't talk to his parents. He hid in his room. Weeks went by. Months went by. And finally it was years.

He didn't miss the cruel outside world.

Until one night, when the fullmoon was shining bright over the lake, a black cat scatched his window. He shooed it away at first. Until there were three. And then four. Pitchblack cats, all staring at him. Taunting him. "Come outside" they said "be one of us tonight". He didn't. The first fullmoon he just closed his blinds and went to bed. When it happened again a month later he got curious. Why had they chosen him?

"You're one of us" purred the black cats with the golden eyes, as she scratched on his window. When he opened it, they all poured in.

There must have been at least five or six of them. They circled him, almost threatening, yet again they were not. He followed them as they jumped out of the window, one by one, climbing up the fire escape, up onto the roof. It was the first time in three years he had gone outside. Unbekown to anyone, he had made it out. Fresh, cold air clashed into his face, carrying the smells of smog, fish and the lake.

He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. He felt the vastness around him. This. This is something he had missed.

A sharp scratch at his leg pulled him back into the moment.

"Meowwww" said at least three of the cats at once, then they ran to the edge of the roof and hopped onto the other building. Just like that. When all of them had made the jump they turned around and starred at him, pulling him closer with this magical connection. His heart pounted. Ok. He'd do this.

And he did. He ran as fast as he could and with a big leap he jumped over to the next building. Then they ran by glowing neon signs of seafood restaurants and supermarkets. When they were tired they just sat on one of the roofs, meowing and staring at the moon. No human ever noticed him. He was one of the cats of the night. And each fullmoon night, before sunrise, he made it back into the room. Each time feeling exhausted but strangely light and happy. At peace.

As the nightly clouds and the falling stars were passing him by, he came to realize that he had been merely surviving all this time. With each leap he realized, that this dangerous activity was in a very real sense the purpose of living. Living in the moment. Living for the moment. Not for fear or pain.

These fullmoon nights had changed something in him. And it wasn't long until he dared to step out into the daylight again. With his newfound confidence and his will to finally live.