Here is the prologue for my upcoming mystery thriller, The Cistern. I will warn you that it might be a little disturbing to some readers...and animal lovers.
Twenty
years ago
He wondered what
the cat wanted more - to be let out of the box or to have the cinder block
lifted from its tail.
Meeerrrooowwww
He stared at it,
with what his mother called his big baby eyes.
The cat screeched and thrashed about wildly without getting
anywhere. Its feet dug into the bottom
of the box wanting to pull its tail out from under the concrete block.
The boy's tongue
flicked out and licked the saliva collecting on his lips. His head tilted to the side as he pondered
how long would it take before Whisker's tail popped off.
He smiled. It was like that rhyme before you flicked the
dandelion head off with your thumb.
"Momma had a baby and its head popped off."
Meeoooowwrrreeeooowww
Things were
tingling inside the boy. He didn't know
why or how it all started, but he didn't want to let it stop. He wanted to see how far it would go. If the boy saw Whiskers pull its tail off
would he moan in ecstasy like those men in the movies his father watched after
everyone went to bed? Would he be
shocked?
This was different
than the cat he put in the barrel of rain water. He stood and watched Tabby try and swim to
the edge. Then he'd push the cat back to
the center with a stick. It splashed
around a long time, but then just gave up and it was over.
Whiskers was
different. His face got warm.
Meeeoooowwwwrrrrrr
He knew that if the
grey cat could pull its tail out...
"Momma
had a baby..."
...it wouldn't be
over. Any bone, or whatever was in a
cat’s tail, was crushed. He could still
hear the sounds as he tipped the heavy cinderblock over.
Meeoooowwwrrrrrooowwwrrr
"Hush
kitty," he said in a calming tone.
"Everything’s okay." He
reached out a hand.
The cat riled
up. Its paw swiped.
The boy pulled his
hand back. There was pain on his
fingers. He looked down as crimson
bubbled to the surface and squeezed through the thin holes left by razor-sharp
feline blades. He put his fingertips in
his mouth and sucked.
Stupid
cat.
He looked around the
yard. There were more cinderblocks. He could take one, hold it above the box,
count to three...
"What are you
doing?"
Mmmmrrrrreeeeooooowwwwww
He spun
around. The girl from down the road had
turned the corner of his house. It was
the two of them and the howling cat.
The boy’s eyes
narrowed. He could taste blood on his
tongue. Cats and dogs were one
thing. He took a step toward the
girl. This was going to be something
altogether different. Part of him grew.
"...and
its head popped off."
