Cat Woman Human Body

Cat Woman Human Body (take three)

By, Amelia Stone

I found it amusing that the popular girls wore clicking stilt-y shoes that always gave their position away. It only made them easier to avoid, and easier for boys to spot the ones who were more open to “mating.”

                Preoccupied at my locker, and needing more time to organize it, I was forced to hold my ground as they passed me. My ears twitched back and I glared at my own refection in the mirror behind my books and the one cat statue I allotted myself at school. Although my real human ears were forced back from their regular position, the cat ears I wore on my head stayed neatly placed on my mane of coal black hair.

                The few hallways lined with lockers could almost make a real life African savanna look tame. Wolves stalked through the hallway for a potential mate if they weren’t already locked in a grinding, writhing breeding dace against the green face of the lockers. The gym coach tried to pacify the potential orgies before they got too extreme, but he was more like an old weary lion surrounded by looming hyenas, than a king of the jungle. 

The gazelles made their way around the corner a locker block down from me, their shoes made a rhythmic clip-clopping coming in and out of beat with the rest of their herd. It was funny that they harassed me for my predatory feline counterpart when they tried to emulate gazelles. With their little frames, dainty ankles and hooves, they captured the attention of most boys around school.

                I suspected they hazed me only because they could feel the wolfish gazes of the male population shifting in my direction even when they were around. Boys were constantly entranced by my short, piece-y black hair and long deliberate strides around campus. Too bad for them the cat was a solitary animal. If I was lucky maybe they’d sink their teeth into the fleshy behind of the gazelles.

                Smiling, I closed my locker with the books I needed for my next class. My ears still twitched from the clicking of their shoes but I depended on my quiet speed to help me evade a confrontation with the gazelles. Having almost made it to a safe distance, I was stopped dead in my tracks.

                As a cat, I had a predatory focus when excited by something, and tunnel vision unconsciously carved its way into my eyes as soon as my mind registered he was around.

                There was something so spastic about the way he moved, like a little bird constantly taking a bath. It ignited the predator that hides behind my eyes and I watched him patiently and quietly.

                Most humans were fairly useless, but this one had something I wanted. I wanted the little ball that moved around on his throat. I felt my eyes widen at just the thought of the word ball, and my long nails pulsed in my palm because I couldn’t contain the urge I had to grab his neck. Maybe my long pointed nails could tear the ball from this little bird.

“God, you’re so fake.” said a gazelle to a lion.

                I gave her the mercy of ignoring her. I was stalking my prey and it didn’t have hooves.

                “You just act like a cat for attention. We all know you actually just have some kind of trauma.” she said.

                Because I’m a cat, I had a very narrow array of emotions, so I didn’t understand why what she was saying made me turn and hiss at her. I’m sure the light green of my eyes wasn’t nearly as scary as my pointed teeth, but she squealed nonetheless and took more space for safety.