"Give me a glance and you stole my heart...," The black cat curled beside the beautiful, delicate waves of the waterfall; bliss overtook him in a heartbeat and his voice lingered upon the whiskers of starry cats....
He woke; the tom was, naturally, small... insignificant to most but somehow... he felt greater. Am I really? He pondered. I'm just being silly.... He cooly swept his gaze across the glade of a silent forest. Few birds whispered, suffering their sweet voices of an eerie wind... the cat's tail dropped. He didn't like the way the moon crippled in the death of orange, how the fur on his neck stung in weak fear, or even how his paws trailed onto the bittersweet aroma of earth, crumbly soil caressing his soles...
Where am I...? Not a soul uttered... no more mind-readers.... Ancestors were dead in these parts and lost souls no longer a burden. I'm alone. Completely alone...
For a moon, the cat wandered aimlessly in the desolate forest of blind eyes. Birds, mice, rabbits, moles.... all fell into his paws, seemingly, and all gave him a chase when he desired a challenge. Not a shade turned darker and yet all the colors blended into the new. Not a shade turned darker but the color of blood splashing into the water... The cat bleed needlessly, however much he needed a drink... Clear as daylight and, as evil as a shard, the water allowed no compromise to his bleeding until he stopped trying. The blood of animals grew colder, still, and he pondered, how? Why? Is it me to die? Over and over again, alone to feel every morsel of a cell that's never going to live again?
Winter, spring, fall, autumn were just bottomless; the tom grew hairless, cold and lonely. Even killing his prey bought ultimate sacrifice to his own soul: yearning for the hours of sunbathed cats and midnight vigils attached to the entrance of his village.
Stop eating..., he thought but his heart continued beating and his emotions were fleeting into the bottomless seasons coursing into his velvet fur...
Kronch. Kronch. Kronch.... was the beat in the moment of heat when the cat who no one knew was to die at his own paws into a pitiful fall under the cold draw of night's deafening crawl... He figured so but no, don't tempt fate, a voice whispered. Engaging the senses of every swift wave of sound, the visitor blessed his fall.
"My whiskers are tied and I'm sun dried...," he croaked and at this the visitor answered, forget and forgive what you've come to dread. The tom was alive with senses and he shrieked..
"I'm on a cliff of a waterfall!" He wouldn't have believed that a second ago, he was to end his own life. The cat balanced across the branch that waved steadily, extending its arm over the empty air. He rolled over onto the sweet earth again and kissed his paws.
"Dear God, where did you come from?!"
"I was with you all along..."
