Faries

By Shawn K

Eleven o’clock, the small sliver jerked a half an inch on the grandfather clock to show that. It’s mechanical gears and springs and coils turned, and it’s metallic bells were violently smacked by rubber tipped rods to produce a sort of ting sound.

It repeated this motion ten more times.

Eleven o’clock, a black Manx crept silently along the carpeted living room. It moved slowly since this was it’s home and it felt safe here. It finally came to where it wished to rest, a small recliner in front of the fireplace. The fireplace was in a orangish red hue that always glowed forth when a fire was reduced to merely cinders. The Manx’s attention was drawn to the chair itself.

The body that slumped down in it was dark and silent, but retained a beautiful cologne smell from the evening. The figure showed no acknowledgment of the cat, and since it was the cat’s master, wouldn’t have anyways.

It was a nice little chair. A cozy one you could sit in for hours and be comfortable the whole time. It was covered in a black suede-like felt, and if you were to rub your hand across it’s shiny surface, it would feel as silky as an infant’s behind.

The Manx glanced at the small nightstand which set next to the chair, and the small touch sensitive lamp which adorned it’s surface. It was accompanied by an ashtray filled with ashes, a pack of Camel’s with only three cigarettes left, a bottle of over the counter caffeine pills, and a bottle of Brandy along with a half full cup.

The Manx leapt, using those sleek feline leg muscles that only felines had, up to the table. It sniffed the cup filled with Brandy and ice, and then turned to face the recliner. It leapt, easily covering the foot width between the stand and chair.

As the cat landed on the figure’s lap, he jumped. Not a jump that would lift him and his cat out of the chair, but the sort of jump a person makes when you sneak up behind them and grab them.

His eyes were wide open, and his pupils leapt to and fro in search of who had awaken him from his slumber.

When he noticed the purring Manx on his lap, he calmed down and grabbed the cup of Brandy. He brought it to his lips when his eyes fell upon the large glass window not more than ten feet to his right.

ThunderStorm he thought It’s raining outside.

He placed the glass on the table and picked up the cat. Rising to his feet and laying the cat back down in the chair, he walked to the window.

Outside he could see the rain falling harder and faster than he had thought when he was in the chair. On the roof he could hear the onslaught of millions of drops of water as they bombarded the roofing. Lightning lit the background like a chaotic strobe light. The thunder roared in the background like the clap of a giant’s feet.

How long was he out? An hour? Two? It was already eleven, so it was a little over three. When he had drifted off, the sky was clear, cloudless.

 If I don’t return to the Safe Room soon he thought the Faries will get me.

He turned to return to the chair, but paused momentarily to glimpse a dark, sinuous shape outside in

the latest clasp of lightning. The Manx jumped to it’s feet, and growled at the window.

I must hurry he thought quickly, before they catch me.

But we already have... replied a voice in the back of his mind.