Cat (Mark II)

There is a temple, in a forest clearing. It has been abandoned.

No need to know why it was abandoned. The abandonment is the only thing of importance.

Roof tiles have fallen from on high. Statues has gone. Where is not known, but they are not where they once were. The torii gates have fallen other. Or perhaps they still stand. No one was here to hear them fall. The main building is giving way to dilapidation.

There is no one to document any of this. Well, almost no one.

Every day, a cat wanders through the forest into the temple. No need to know whose cat this is. No need to know what the cat looks like. Could black, could be tortoise shell, could be any colour. That is of no concern. The only concern is that this cat comes to the temple.

No other animals frequent here, so the cat is not here for food. No people come by here so there is no seeking of company. Nope. The cat comes here to track the changes that afflict the temple. How many rooftiles are left on the roof? How many are on the forest floor? Have the torii gates really fallen? What remains of the main building?

The cat makes notes on all of this, adding them to the previous inspections. There is no intent on fixing any of this. The rooftiles will not return to on high. The main building will not see any renovations. The statues will not come back. None of that concerns the cat. The feline simply wants to track the life span of the temple. Nothing more. Nothing less. Once the round is finished, the cat will take a quick sit, glance one last time at the temple and wander back through the forest.

Where to? Not know. Anyone care? Not particularly. All the matters is that tomorrow, the cat will return to the temple and see what is what.

Nothing more, and nothing less.


A redraft of Cat. No idea why I’m fond of this idea but I am. May be it will become something bigger. Or may be not. I’ll take it as it comes.


There is a temple. It is in a forest clearing. Abandoned.

Don’t need to know why its abandoned. The fact alone is the necessary thing here.

Some of the roof tiles have fallen from on high. Some of the statues have gone. No idea where, but they aren’t where they once were. No one was interested in looking for them. Oh well. The Torii gates have fallen over. Or maybe they still stand. No one heard them fall. Can’t be long until the main building falls. Least it seems that way.

No one knows any of this. Well, someone does.

Everyday a cat wanders through here. Don’t need to know whose cat it is. The fact a cat is here is what is important.

There are no animals here, so there is nothing for the cat to eat. There are no people here, so there is no food to be handed out. No, the cat comes here to track the changes the temple goes through. How many roof tiles remain? Did the torii gates really fall? When did those statues go away? How long does the main building have left?

The cat takes notes on all of this and adds them to previous inspections. Takes a quick sit, glances at the temple one last time before wandering back into the forest around.

Where is the cats shelter? No one knows. Does anyone care? All that matters is that the cat will be back tomorrow, checking the temple and taking down notes.


A thing I wrote. I don’t really know what it is, but it exists and that’s enough for now.


The twilight between sleep. That’s when I first caught sight of them. I doubted their existence. They were not legible, obscured under layers. But I saw them again, night after night and I knew that they where under there. Whatever doubts I may have had, it cast them aside and confirmed to me their existence. It wouldn’t lie to me. It is a bastion of trust. Thanks to it I knew what must be done. The runes must be exposed, so that I may discover their telling.

For a great many nights, I thought about acting on the desire. First steps are always frightful. Eventually I grew sick of consideration and I picked away at the first layer, but progress was slow. The resistance was more than I anticipated. The effort exceeded my expectations. I had to wait for parts to become brittle and chapped, only then would they fall off, or if need be, ripped off. Still, I couldn’t see them clearly. The runes glowed but faintly, so clarity must have lain deeper, and deeper still. I relayed all of this to it, and it confirmed this. It listened to me. It is a bastion of trust.

I abandoned the picking. It was taking too long with inadequate results. Cutting and slicing was a much more productive method of discovery. It brought an almighty mess with it though, and was quite taxing, requiring plenty of rest between sessions. But eventually they started to show. They grew brighter, and brighter still. I was on the right track and relayed this to it. It encouraged my efforts. And so again, I cut, and again I sliced until it was done. It wouldn’t lie to me. It is a bastion of trust.

And there is the result of my efforts. Hanging there, translucent in the fluorescent light. The beauty of the now detached layers is a welcome distraction from the cold I now feel. The air that stings my skin. The blood that has seeped into my floor. But that is no concern. For the runes are now glowing bright and brighter for ever more. I knew it wouldn’t lie to me. It is a bastion of trust. Come the morning it and I will decipher the messages. But now I must take my rest. Rest comes first now. Rest comes first.


I’ve been reading a bit of HP Lovecraft.