A bit of poorly-titled flash fiction inspired by the revelatory webcomic (type thing. Not really, though. It\'s weird, but highly reccomendable. Check it out.)
A Softer World, August 14, 2004. Go
here to read it.
PurrAdmiring the ruff on her coat, people laugh when my mother says the fur comes from small dogs.
But I\'ve seen her long, thin knives.
And I\'ve heard the cries in the night, smelled the milky puppy-smell on her skin.
Thirsty, I once rose from my bed in the killing-hours of the night.
I saw her in our basement, one of those knives in her hand, fingernails curved and sharp. Hunched over a glistening shape, naked and invulnerable in the darkness. Her tongue whirred against the roof of her mouth.
Sometimes I think she sensed me, in that moment. She knew I was there.
Her eyes shine in the dark, when she kisses me goodnight. But maybe that’s the glare of the television.
I tell myself that the paws dancing in restless circles on my comforter are just figments, and not tiny, lonely ghosts, whimpering softly in my ear. I smooth out the puppy-shaped indents in the morning, and pretend that I don\'t still have nightmares about the purring.
