Domesticus {A Short Story Collection}

Felidae

A single drop of molten lava, swirling in an endless spiral, punctuated by the immortal rhythm- 'thump, thump, thump'. In this liquid gold, we find flecks of green, blue and silver. The green of the forest, from which this life doth dwell. Blue as the sky, of which is the limit. Silver as the royalty from which the demeanour derives. This rainbow vortex leads to a black hole, deep down in the black, a depressing emptiness, void of emotion. Yet in this dark we find a light. A light so bright it blinds in its dazzling yet destructive beauty. In this blindness, we find a soul.

Beneath these windows, we find a canyon, full of spears that never dull. Curled at the corners in a deadly smile, these blades can be friend or foe, the latter being better off. For while the foe dies, it dies quickly, whilst the friend is left to walk the mortal plain, always in fear, on the edge of life and death, waiting. For oldest of all, comes the stone bite.

Yet, between death and despair we find an oddity. A button. Yes, a button. Cute as a button and tickled pink. Framed by trees as white as snow, fanning out on either side like feathers in a peacock's tail, majestic in their simplicity, yet sensitive to the roar of primal instinct.

The cherry on top is but a peak, or two. An overlapping of stones as soft as cotton, reaching the peak only to find the mountain has awoken, aware of the breath of a fish or the whisper of a cloud. Ferns reach from the cave below, trapping every passing sound so they can whisper to the towering rocks the tales of the mundane.

The view from these mountains is spectacular. Fields of silk, coloured as dark as coal and as light as the clouds above, speckled with rust and sandstone. These endless fields of colour and beauty are persistently groomed with sheets of sandpaper. They move flawlessly in the wind, glowing with the light of a fallen star.

Four pillars keep up these vast treasures strong and steady, yet fast and agile. Tense, pounce, relax, and stretch; keeping the world moving. These pillars end in clouds as pure as duckling down, a world that is untouched by the troubles of humans, filled with despair so black it burns to ash that covers our lives, The world above these clouds fears no such dust, and is peaceful, harmonious and perfectly in balance.

When speaking of balance, the anchor, in its glorious yet simple design, is key. The same sandstone and coal fields, but rimmed with white as clear as crystal quartz. Flicking from side to side, up and down, curling up or around, standing tall; it keeps this magnificent universe from descending down into complete and uncontrolled chaos.

The biological engine for this world is demanding, fickle in its wants and needs. When it is satisfied, the engine rumbles loud enough to cause earthquakes. The rumbling noise, so pleasing to the ear lets us mere mortals know our master is happy, serene, purring away to the heart's content.

This is no mere story, inspired from some whimsical idea living in my skull. This is but a tribute, a tail dedicated to beauty itself as she sits happily on my lap, enjoying all that life has to offer. Fancy that...

Would you have guessed I was describing my cat?