My Ivory Tower



Crouching down to stroke the head of an inquisitive cat, I’m at first reminded of you, and then of the Croydon Cat Killer. What if someone looks out their window and thinks I’m him? What if an unruly mob forms and beats me to death on the streets where I spent so many days of my childhood living a blessed existence free from all that now ails me? This cat killer, y’know he cuts off the limbs of his feline victims then places them on the lawns and porches of their owners? He comes in the night, kills the little ones, and then scarpers. He’s done in more than four hundred now, including swans and owls, and his reign of terror stretches the length and breadth of the country. But he’s been stalking the local towns around me for some time. Harpenden. St Albans. Luton. It’s nothing to do with me, though, I swear. I like cats, and as mentioned, they remind me of you, which is why I seek them out and pamper them at every opportunity. So yeah, the other night I was watching The NeverEnding Story and remembered the time we watched it while spooning in my room. I had you by the throat and was choking you but you liked it so it was okay. You were struggling to breathe, but every time I loosened my grip, you would place your hand over mine and squeeze it tight again. The morning after, we were both covered in bruises from where we’d been pinching each other. I’d gone for your hips and breasts while you’d targeted my arms and legs, and of course, your throat looked as if you’d tried hanging yourself. Which wasn’t a million miles from the truth. What was the name of that flying thing? That big white goat thing from the movie? And that cat killer. You reckon he’ll start targeting people next? They almost always do so it wouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s still snowing outside, and somewhere out there your shadow’s calling for me to come out and play. Begging and pleading with those big, pretty eyes shining all obsidian-like in the darkness.

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on

A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on

12 replies »

  1. History of Catford
    • council: Lewisham
    • phone code: 020
    • postcode area: SE6
    • county: Greater London
    Catford is an ancient place name, which goes back in documents as far as the reign of Edward I, and is the name of an old manor dating back to the 13th century.
    It may also owe its name to a ford over the River Ravensbourne, and some sources say there were wild cats around the area. Catford as the name of a particular suburban district crossed by the South Circular Road is of more recent origin. It may date no earlier than the building in 1875 of the offices of the Lewisham Board of Works (which in 1900 became the Town Hall), or from the building of the original parish church of Catford in 1887.

    During its early years, Catford was mostly a scattered hamlet, wooded and waterlogged with some farming. Much of the parish would have been liable to inundation from the River Ravensbourne whenever there were heavy rains. At Catford was one of the many mills on the Ravensbourne, probably one of the eleven recorded in Domesday, and known in the 13 th and 14 th centuries as Fordmill. It stood on the western side of the river, on the left hand side of the road going towards Catford Hill.

    The Catford shopping centre was built by Owen Luder in 1974, incorporating the Catford Mews and Milford Tower housing estate. A large black and white cat is draped over the entrance sign on Rushey Green.

  2. “What if someone looks out their window and thinks I’m him? What if an unruly mob forms and beats me to death on the streets where I spent so many days of my childhood living a blessed existence free from all that now ails me?”

    I smiled at this because (of course) I knew what it was about. I’ve thought this way when I’ve been nosing about places I shouldn’t be nosing.

    I loved this, but it disturbed me too. Being choked scares me so I stopped reading for a while. When I came back the choking passage was still there, so I skimmed over it and read further on instead. Sometimes what you write does that to me, but that’s a good thing…isn’t it? I feel you won’t be offended, just pleased that I bothered to tell you. x

    • I like to think it’s a good thing, yes. It’s always nice to be comforted by art, and yet I think it’s vital to be challenged and disturbed at the same time. It helps us to face up to things, and it also helps to keep us on our feet.

      And I like how you know what it’s like to to be nosing around in places you shouldn’t 🙂 x

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