The Son's Journey

Crickets and fairies chirped outside the woman’s cottage. My body ached from my journey throughout the day, and my neck felt heavy. I assessed the room as I sat at the table dressed in frilly cloth. A pot whispered on the fire, and a cabinet of her fine china stared back at her everyday pale plates beside me. The utensils had a lacey bow tied around them, awaiting their meal.

The old woman walked in holding an unfamiliar cat. 

“I forget what you call these at home…” She said, stroking its fur.

“Cats?” I asked; it looked as ordinary as the ones that live next door to Dad and me.

“Yes, that’s right! They don’t claim a name here, but they are not good. They feed off your fear, son.”

I didn’t know what she meant. Her demeanor had changed from warm to hot. I rearranged myself in my seat as she stared at me. 

“Honey, you need to slay this cat for dinner.” She said outright, and I saw the silver blade in her other hand, not petting the cat. I continued to rearrange and look at her in the distance between us. She wasn’t laughing or smiling anymore, and her breathing became fast. Her sweet face turned from full to small and decrepit. 

“You mean kill it?”

“Yes, Son, they will find your father the longer they stay alive.”

Anger welled up inside me and manifested in tears coming out of my eyes. The mere mention of my dad from this strange lady enraged me. I thought about being in his arms and riding our bikes and ice cream. Dad would always tell the nice lady next door that I go to bed at eight o’clock, even though the time says eleven when we eat ice cream. It had been dark for so long.

“I’m not your son. And I’m not killing a cat!” I stood up quickly and found the entry. When I swung the door open, I did not see the mossy steps or starry flowers. I saw Dad snoring next to the clock that said twelve. It was past ice cream time; my eyes felt hazy.

The old woman crept next to the carved doorframe. “He won’t be like that for long if you let this creature live. You must end its life, or they will find your sweet father and feed off his flesh. They can smell him; you reek of that man.”

My lips quivered and felt slippery from my tears and snot. “Dad! Dad, I’m right here!” He lay so peaceful, not doing as much as twitching from my voice. “Dad, you have to hear me! Please!” I screamed from the back of my throat and lost my words. I pleaded with him until I saw the same black dots in my eyes from when I first rode a roller coaster. Dad told me to lie down and take deep breaths, but the air around me vanished as I inhaled and my heart pounded in my throat. I started coughing on the saliva in the back of my throat and my eyes burned. 

“The sooner you complete this, the sooner you can go home.”

My eyes red, I gazed up at her in disgust. My hand opened for the blade, and she set the creature down on the floor. It cooed and meowed against my leg, and I hastily reached down and penetrated its skin. Blood pooled around its paws, and its meowing was now low in its chest. The blade swam in its insides, swiftly coming up for air. Fur clouded up around it, and all that could be heard was my weapon slushing in its tendons. It lay, its core distorted. My job was done.

I kept my eyes to the floor only to look up to the tall trees eating the landscape around me, and the cottage as vanished as my sleeping father. I stood alone with fur clumped in blood covering my hands and legs. I fell to the dirt, wetting the ground beneath me. My eyes finally lay to rest.