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libra_travellerTitle: Cat’s Cry
Author: libra_traveller
Rating: R
Beta: Ellex
Summary: As the dirt fills his mouth he tries to reach for her.
Author’s Note: Rewrite of How it Started.
Second note: After some thought and talking it over with my mom, I realize that this story isn't a stand alone and is perhaps a flashback of a larger story. Back to writing I go.
He found her lying underneath her favorite chair, a wooden rocking chair outside on the porch. At first he just thought she was sleeping as usual, but her black fur wasn’t stuck up in tufts that her breathing always made. She was ten years old and had been in the family for six of those years, a stray that had been wandering from house to house finally stopping at the McKay’s house when Rodney put out milk and tuna for her. Rodney had been eight years old then. For days he would kneel on the concrete floor in the back yard that had a hammock tied to the wooden beams holding up their balcony. He would let the cat drink before stretching his hand out to touch her. For a week she would run back into the trees as soon as he moved. One day it was raining heavily, one of those summer storms, and Rodney was inside worrying. The rain had gone on all day, and she had yet to come for food. He was sitting on the couch, idly watching the news, when he heard a pathetic meow and scratching sound at the glass door to the back yard.
Rodney turned his head, and there was the cat. He ran to the linen closet and grabbed a towel, then hurried to the door, and let the cat in, scooping her up in the towel. Wide eyes looked up from a round face and she started purring in little stutters. Rodney sat back on the couch after and cuddled her in his arms. He hadn’t give her a name, just calling her ‘the stray’ when speaking to his mom and little sister about her, but now that she was going to be his friend he decided to call her Wendy.
Something about how Wendy wasn’t moving under the chair alarmed Rodney and he dropped down on his knees to pick her up. She wasn’t breathing and lay limp in his arms. He sat down against the wall of the house and slammed his head against the brick, trying to fight the tears in his eyes. Jeannie found him staring out into the street, Wendy long dead in his lap. Jeannie carefully picked her up and put her down on the ground. She sat next to Rodney and let him turn to her, the tears soaking into her hair.
Later that night, Rodney went out in the back yard carrying a black trash bag in one arm and Wendy in the other. Jeannie followed behind him, holding a metal shovel with a wooden handle. They stood next to a tree that Wendy loved to climb up, though she always had to be coaxed back down. Rodney put Wendy down on top of the bag and took the handle from Jeannie. He stared down at the ground and with a shuddering breath pushed the metal into the ground at an angle, then shoved his foot down on it and lifted up the dirt. Almost mechanically he continued until he had a large enough hole. Then he threw the shovel to the side and got down on his knees and carefully put Wendy inside the trash bag, wrapping the extra plastic around her body a few times. Then he gently put her down in the hole. With one last look he said a silent good bye, then used his hands to sweep the dirt back in the ground until she was covered. He stood back up and let Jeannie shovel the rest of the dirt. When she finished, she took the shovel and began to walk away, stopping for one moment to squeeze Rodney’s shoulder.
It was only Rodney now as the clouds opened up and poured a light rain down on him. He didn’t notice the light on in the room of the house next door as a neighbor around Rodney’s age watched. Frank had lived next door to Rodney since they were in the fifth grade. At first Frank had tried to be friends with Rodney, his father teaching him that he needed allies to get through life. Rodney had been nice at first because even at that age Frank had been intimidating. After a few years of mostly ignoring Frank, though always smiling and coming up with excuses to not hang out, Rodney decided to tell it straight. Frank was a moron and Rodney would not deign to spend time with someone who needed to cheat to past seventh grade. Frank had always been a bully, but a subtle enough one that Rodney had not noticed. Now that Rodney was being honest, Frank decided to put a little more effort into bullying Rodney. Mostly it was pushing books out of his hands, or slamming lockers. Rodney would insult him right back, anything from his intelligence to that of his mother’s. So it was no wonder that Frank saw Rodney grieving, and an idea began to form.
A couple weeks after the burial, Rodney was walking down the sidewalk from school. He could take the bus to get home, but he hated being surrounded by that many people and preferred the ache in his legs to the ache in his head. He was a few blocks away from the school when he noticed the sound of running feet hitting the pavement. Before he could move out of the way, two boys with sour breath grabbed him by his elbows and began dragging him down the sidewalk until they turned a corner on a street with few houses. Rodney twisted his body making him catch sight of Frank’s bulky frame and the sneer on his mouth. Rodney opened his mouth though he did not know what he would say. He wasn’t given a chance as Frank’s fist impacted his nose, and a second fist pushed up into his gut. Rodney could not breathe and the pain on his face consumed his thoughts. One of the boys twisted an arm behind his back and forced him to start walking on his own. They had gone a couple blocks before Rodney’s eyes cleared. He struggled to shout out, hoping someone was nearby, but Frank slapped him across the mouth, rocking his head to the side. They kept going, Rodney stumbling between the two boys who he finally recognized as Jack and Benjy, two popular jocks in high school. When they neared the gates of a cemetery, Rodney was silent, but his thoughts kept churning over a way to escape, and perhaps get some vengeance too.
This cemetery was one of the older ones and there was a place in the far back that was a mass grave from during the flu epidemic. In the last year a decision was made to dig up the grave and attempt to find the bones of each corpse and move it to its own grave. Most of the digging up had already been done, and a large pit was surrounded by yellow construction tape, hundreds of bones poking out of the dark earth. Jack and Benjy dragged Rodney near the edge and let go of his arms. Rodney turned around, clutching his stomach and snarled at Frank’s gloating mouth and eyes. His words came out high pitched and mumbled as he threatened Frank.
“You ass-wipe, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You showing me your idiotic ancestors, too poor to be allowed their own coffin, that it?”
Frank didn’t bother answering just nodded to the other boys who swung their arms and shoved Rodney past the tape and into the hole. Rodney tumbled down landing on the sharp bones, his forehead slamming into what may have been part of a leg. Rodney’s eyes fluttered closed.
When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, he noticed there was some shovels of dirt around him, little piles that had for the most part missed him. He scrambled to his feet, shaking off the soil while sliding on the bones underfoot, little crunching sounds startling him. Frank was looking down at him from over the pit, anger clear in his eyes.
“I hated you and that stupid cat. She would always claw me whenever I tried to grab her. Then I see she’s finally dead, and there you were, crying your little heart out. It makes me sick. Do you think I cried like that when my own mother died? No, because I’m not a wimp like you. You’re pathetic. You’re worse than pathetic because you honestly believe that you’re better than the rest of us. You think you’re so smart just because your grades are higher, but if you were really smart you wouldn’t even be in this situation, now would you?” Frank grabbed one of the shovels that was at the site, and scooped up hard dirt and rocks, aiming with deadly accuracy straight at Rodney’s head.
Rodney cried out and slipped to his knees. “Fuck!” he yelled in pain. He scrambled back up and shouted, “Damn you Frank! The way you behave, your mother’s lucky she’s dead. Who would want you as a son?” A snarl and more dirt was the answer. A few more throws and Rodney’s arms and face were bleeding. He could barely stay on his feet.
Benjy called out to Frank. “I think that’s enough. Let’s just leave him.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “Let’s leave the fucker down there till someone finds his ass.”
“No. Finish it.” Frank spat to the side. Benjy and Jack gave each other careful looks but continued to let the dirt thunder down. They watched uneasily as Rodney stopped yelling and fell down, unable to stay on his feet.
Rodney’s thoughts mostly centered on wanting to hurt Frank, but as he started coughing and dirt filled his mouth, he could only think about trying to breathe. Soon he forgot about anything else and his eyes were covered. He heard a soft meow and he didn’t know from where. It sounded like Wendy and he began to kick his legs out to try and move. His fingers stretched out trying to reach, but she was elusive. The next sound that filtered into his mind was Jeannie’s voice. She was screaming and an older man’s yell joined hers. The last thing he thought he heard was a shovel thrown to the ground, and the running of feet.
Rodney woke up as he was being lifted onto a gurney, Jeannie’s hand gripping one of his. His lungs hurt but he was breathing, the mask on his face blowing oxygen in his mouth and nose. As the gurney was led through the maze of tombstones, Rodney thought he could still hear a cat’s cry.
Author: libra_traveller
Rating: R
Beta: Ellex
Summary: As the dirt fills his mouth he tries to reach for her.
Author’s Note: Rewrite of How it Started.
Second note: After some thought and talking it over with my mom, I realize that this story isn't a stand alone and is perhaps a flashback of a larger story. Back to writing I go.
He found her lying underneath her favorite chair, a wooden rocking chair outside on the porch. At first he just thought she was sleeping as usual, but her black fur wasn’t stuck up in tufts that her breathing always made. She was ten years old and had been in the family for six of those years, a stray that had been wandering from house to house finally stopping at the McKay’s house when Rodney put out milk and tuna for her. Rodney had been eight years old then. For days he would kneel on the concrete floor in the back yard that had a hammock tied to the wooden beams holding up their balcony. He would let the cat drink before stretching his hand out to touch her. For a week she would run back into the trees as soon as he moved. One day it was raining heavily, one of those summer storms, and Rodney was inside worrying. The rain had gone on all day, and she had yet to come for food. He was sitting on the couch, idly watching the news, when he heard a pathetic meow and scratching sound at the glass door to the back yard.
Rodney turned his head, and there was the cat. He ran to the linen closet and grabbed a towel, then hurried to the door, and let the cat in, scooping her up in the towel. Wide eyes looked up from a round face and she started purring in little stutters. Rodney sat back on the couch after and cuddled her in his arms. He hadn’t give her a name, just calling her ‘the stray’ when speaking to his mom and little sister about her, but now that she was going to be his friend he decided to call her Wendy.
Something about how Wendy wasn’t moving under the chair alarmed Rodney and he dropped down on his knees to pick her up. She wasn’t breathing and lay limp in his arms. He sat down against the wall of the house and slammed his head against the brick, trying to fight the tears in his eyes. Jeannie found him staring out into the street, Wendy long dead in his lap. Jeannie carefully picked her up and put her down on the ground. She sat next to Rodney and let him turn to her, the tears soaking into her hair.
Later that night, Rodney went out in the back yard carrying a black trash bag in one arm and Wendy in the other. Jeannie followed behind him, holding a metal shovel with a wooden handle. They stood next to a tree that Wendy loved to climb up, though she always had to be coaxed back down. Rodney put Wendy down on top of the bag and took the handle from Jeannie. He stared down at the ground and with a shuddering breath pushed the metal into the ground at an angle, then shoved his foot down on it and lifted up the dirt. Almost mechanically he continued until he had a large enough hole. Then he threw the shovel to the side and got down on his knees and carefully put Wendy inside the trash bag, wrapping the extra plastic around her body a few times. Then he gently put her down in the hole. With one last look he said a silent good bye, then used his hands to sweep the dirt back in the ground until she was covered. He stood back up and let Jeannie shovel the rest of the dirt. When she finished, she took the shovel and began to walk away, stopping for one moment to squeeze Rodney’s shoulder.
It was only Rodney now as the clouds opened up and poured a light rain down on him. He didn’t notice the light on in the room of the house next door as a neighbor around Rodney’s age watched. Frank had lived next door to Rodney since they were in the fifth grade. At first Frank had tried to be friends with Rodney, his father teaching him that he needed allies to get through life. Rodney had been nice at first because even at that age Frank had been intimidating. After a few years of mostly ignoring Frank, though always smiling and coming up with excuses to not hang out, Rodney decided to tell it straight. Frank was a moron and Rodney would not deign to spend time with someone who needed to cheat to past seventh grade. Frank had always been a bully, but a subtle enough one that Rodney had not noticed. Now that Rodney was being honest, Frank decided to put a little more effort into bullying Rodney. Mostly it was pushing books out of his hands, or slamming lockers. Rodney would insult him right back, anything from his intelligence to that of his mother’s. So it was no wonder that Frank saw Rodney grieving, and an idea began to form.
A couple weeks after the burial, Rodney was walking down the sidewalk from school. He could take the bus to get home, but he hated being surrounded by that many people and preferred the ache in his legs to the ache in his head. He was a few blocks away from the school when he noticed the sound of running feet hitting the pavement. Before he could move out of the way, two boys with sour breath grabbed him by his elbows and began dragging him down the sidewalk until they turned a corner on a street with few houses. Rodney twisted his body making him catch sight of Frank’s bulky frame and the sneer on his mouth. Rodney opened his mouth though he did not know what he would say. He wasn’t given a chance as Frank’s fist impacted his nose, and a second fist pushed up into his gut. Rodney could not breathe and the pain on his face consumed his thoughts. One of the boys twisted an arm behind his back and forced him to start walking on his own. They had gone a couple blocks before Rodney’s eyes cleared. He struggled to shout out, hoping someone was nearby, but Frank slapped him across the mouth, rocking his head to the side. They kept going, Rodney stumbling between the two boys who he finally recognized as Jack and Benjy, two popular jocks in high school. When they neared the gates of a cemetery, Rodney was silent, but his thoughts kept churning over a way to escape, and perhaps get some vengeance too.
This cemetery was one of the older ones and there was a place in the far back that was a mass grave from during the flu epidemic. In the last year a decision was made to dig up the grave and attempt to find the bones of each corpse and move it to its own grave. Most of the digging up had already been done, and a large pit was surrounded by yellow construction tape, hundreds of bones poking out of the dark earth. Jack and Benjy dragged Rodney near the edge and let go of his arms. Rodney turned around, clutching his stomach and snarled at Frank’s gloating mouth and eyes. His words came out high pitched and mumbled as he threatened Frank.
“You ass-wipe, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You showing me your idiotic ancestors, too poor to be allowed their own coffin, that it?”
Frank didn’t bother answering just nodded to the other boys who swung their arms and shoved Rodney past the tape and into the hole. Rodney tumbled down landing on the sharp bones, his forehead slamming into what may have been part of a leg. Rodney’s eyes fluttered closed.
When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, he noticed there was some shovels of dirt around him, little piles that had for the most part missed him. He scrambled to his feet, shaking off the soil while sliding on the bones underfoot, little crunching sounds startling him. Frank was looking down at him from over the pit, anger clear in his eyes.
“I hated you and that stupid cat. She would always claw me whenever I tried to grab her. Then I see she’s finally dead, and there you were, crying your little heart out. It makes me sick. Do you think I cried like that when my own mother died? No, because I’m not a wimp like you. You’re pathetic. You’re worse than pathetic because you honestly believe that you’re better than the rest of us. You think you’re so smart just because your grades are higher, but if you were really smart you wouldn’t even be in this situation, now would you?” Frank grabbed one of the shovels that was at the site, and scooped up hard dirt and rocks, aiming with deadly accuracy straight at Rodney’s head.
Rodney cried out and slipped to his knees. “Fuck!” he yelled in pain. He scrambled back up and shouted, “Damn you Frank! The way you behave, your mother’s lucky she’s dead. Who would want you as a son?” A snarl and more dirt was the answer. A few more throws and Rodney’s arms and face were bleeding. He could barely stay on his feet.
Benjy called out to Frank. “I think that’s enough. Let’s just leave him.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “Let’s leave the fucker down there till someone finds his ass.”
“No. Finish it.” Frank spat to the side. Benjy and Jack gave each other careful looks but continued to let the dirt thunder down. They watched uneasily as Rodney stopped yelling and fell down, unable to stay on his feet.
Rodney’s thoughts mostly centered on wanting to hurt Frank, but as he started coughing and dirt filled his mouth, he could only think about trying to breathe. Soon he forgot about anything else and his eyes were covered. He heard a soft meow and he didn’t know from where. It sounded like Wendy and he began to kick his legs out to try and move. His fingers stretched out trying to reach, but she was elusive. The next sound that filtered into his mind was Jeannie’s voice. She was screaming and an older man’s yell joined hers. The last thing he thought he heard was a shovel thrown to the ground, and the running of feet.
Rodney woke up as he was being lifted onto a gurney, Jeannie’s hand gripping one of his. His lungs hurt but he was breathing, the mask on his face blowing oxygen in his mouth and nose. As the gurney was led through the maze of tombstones, Rodney thought he could still hear a cat’s cry.
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no subject
on 2007-08-22 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-23 03:30 pm (UTC)yes yes - write more
OMG!
on 2007-09-16 06:07 am (UTC)Re: OMG!
on 2007-09-16 03:57 pm (UTC)Re: OMG!
on 2007-09-16 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-10-08 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-10-08 03:26 pm (UTC)