Towel drying her hair, she sticks her head out the window looking down at the cats on the street below. Meowing at her sudden appearance, they raise their paws making strange cat noises. Sounds like they’re saying hellowoowooowoowoowoo. Saying it back as if howling at the unseen moon- of which she can still faintly smell- she goes into the kitchen and grabs a bowl of pasta from the fridge before returning. Throwing out handfuls of the stuff to her feline friends, there’s a mad scramble as they fight among themselves for a taste of the good stuff. Smiling, she puts down the bowel and finds Herbie hiding beneath the pillows on her bed, no doubt spooked by the strange crying coming from outside. Picking him up, she kisses him on the nose then dances with him around the room. Wiggling his tail, she tickles his tummy then decides he’s in need of a wash. Can’t let you go letting the team down now, can I? Squeaking in reply, she pops him on her shoulder then heads to the bathroom where she fills the sink with a little warm water. Popping him in, she splashes him until he gets the message and begins cleaning himself. I’ll be back in five. Don’t go shitting. Leaving him to it, she goes to find something he can call home but finds herself drawn to the photo on the bedside table again. Lying on her bed, she groans as a cool breeze creeps over her body making the tiny hairs that cover her limbs stand on end. Craning her neck, she looks at that timeless smile of his. The memory of their act bubbles in her mind and within a minute or so the doorway opens. Biting her lip, she works herself into a frenzy, so much so the sounds escaping her throat cause the cats outside to begin their woowoowoowoowooing again. As they sing their chorus standing on their hind legs, X searches for the perfect spot, the perfect moment, and when she does, here comes the taste of electricity again. It surges along the length of her spine, and when she grits her teeth, it zips through her veins turning her blood into liquid mercury. Gasping as her flesh feels as hot as melting wax, she glances at the photo. The drawing of the fox on the reverse glows red before superimposing itself onto his smiling face. Sprouting whiskers to go with his beard, fox ears burn themselves above his head, and while she doesn’t know the meaning of what’s happening, she knows it means something, and at that, the magic moment presents itself. Growling as her fingers glide over her bean, with one sharp intake of breath she levitates off the bed as time and space blasts through her brain. In less than one-tenth of a second, she’s calling out his name, and as the call becomes a bark, she’s hurtling through the layers like the orb she is.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US