Saturday's Storyteller: Void
Void
by Belinda Roddie
The void blinked at me, and so I blinked back. We were tired of tirelessly staring at one another, and so the blood returned to our heads, and we returned to fluttering the folded lids of our skin, returning moisture to dried eyes that wished they could be crying.
When the void blinked at me, I knew I had gained its trust, so I rewarded it handsomely. I fed it treats and biscuits and sweets. I offered trinkets and toys and blankets. I let it rest its head on my wife's chest, despite the morning looming over us.
It was a marvel to best the void. We know we could both hold a gaze, but now, the two stars in the void's head had flickered. Even the greatest gas giants falter under intimidation. And thus, it became beholden to my whims.
Now I feed the void twice a day. I offer it clean water and a tower to rest its weary bones upon. I allow it to gnaw at my fingers when it perceives that a beast has descended. It trusts few, though once said trust has been reached, it is quick to acknowledge those of my friends who have withstood the test of its judgment. And perhaps much against my better discretion, I allow it to curl up and sleep beside me.
Because the void is warm. It is cuddly. It is furry. And it is a cat.
And it is mine.
This week's prompt was provided by Rae Davoren.
by Belinda Roddie
The void blinked at me, and so I blinked back. We were tired of tirelessly staring at one another, and so the blood returned to our heads, and we returned to fluttering the folded lids of our skin, returning moisture to dried eyes that wished they could be crying.
When the void blinked at me, I knew I had gained its trust, so I rewarded it handsomely. I fed it treats and biscuits and sweets. I offered trinkets and toys and blankets. I let it rest its head on my wife's chest, despite the morning looming over us.
It was a marvel to best the void. We know we could both hold a gaze, but now, the two stars in the void's head had flickered. Even the greatest gas giants falter under intimidation. And thus, it became beholden to my whims.
Now I feed the void twice a day. I offer it clean water and a tower to rest its weary bones upon. I allow it to gnaw at my fingers when it perceives that a beast has descended. It trusts few, though once said trust has been reached, it is quick to acknowledge those of my friends who have withstood the test of its judgment. And perhaps much against my better discretion, I allow it to curl up and sleep beside me.
Because the void is warm. It is cuddly. It is furry. And it is a cat.
And it is mine.
This week's prompt was provided by Rae Davoren.
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