A few days ago photographer Kyle Cassidy posted a writing contest on his Livejournal. Any fans of Neil Gaiman or Amanda Palmer (or both) may know Kyle’s work from the book Who Killed Amanda Palmer?

The rules were simple, write a 350 word story about his cat Roswell and mer-people. The prize was a copy of Chris Howard’s novel Seaborn. And Chris Howard himself was the judge.

I sadly didn’t win (oh well!) but it was a lot of fun to participate in and I really enjoyed a lot of the other stories. The winning ones are all pretty rad. You can read them all over on Kyle’s LJ.

You can read mine right here! So now, without further ado, is my little Flash Fiction.

***

The Wiseness of Cats

She stood alone on the vast, empty shore. The great waves roared, crashed, frothed over sand and raced towards her feet. She shivered in disgust. To step foot in that awful ocean was the last thing she wanted.

She daintily slapped at it with one sandy paw. The water swirled around her claws and she pulled back, hissing.

It was so cold!

However, the call had come. She sighed, onward it must be.

With one powerful thrust she let herself fly through the air and into the waves. After a brief moment of swirling mayhem, her feet found purchase and she settled on the ocean floor.

Seawater filled her lungs. Choking, she gasped for air. The water filled her mouth and she felt herself begin to retch. Her whole body convulsed and she hacked an impressive cough.

At her feet sat, or rather floated, a hairball. She knocked it away in distaste.

She crossed many leagues before finally arriving at the undersea palace. The distance would have been annoying but she had traversed it many times before.

The Sea King was waiting. Ten stories to Roswell’s tiny stature and yet she stood before him, mighty in her pride.

“What do those Humans think they are doing?!” He bellowed.

“How should I know?”

“You are the ambassador.”

“I’m just a cat. You’re a King.” At once he deflated, his anger giving way to sadness.

“They have forgotten me. I no longer have even a name.”

“Then you must remind them. That is the only advice I have. You were once a god to them, they trembled in fear at your power. Make it so once again.” He stared glumly at her, not deigning to reply.

“Is there anything else? I dare say it’s time for my lunch and I will soon be missed.”

Back on land Roswell regarded the horizon; an angry storm of justified anger would soon be on its way. Roswell supposed she could attempt to warn them, but humans had forgotten the wiseness of cats. That memory was buried deep along with the names of their forgotten gods.