Willowbane

Stranger things have happened than these, yet these things too are strange indeed! --Melinda McDaniel

 

Willowbane

11/25/11

 

   Perched precariously atop one of the cedar boards of which our back fence is comprised, it looked at me from the reverse of our kitchen window pane as I washed dishes and warmed a kettle while preparing to break our fast. It looked as if a sturdy wind may have blown it haunches over head, and teetered a bit as it clenched the bark beneath its feet tremendously with tenacious feline talons. The creature's green eyes cut through muckity muck, mire, and Autumn's grey to shine at me from sockets swimming in sandy ruddy coal. They were as green diamonds in an onyx setting, or two glowing globes in an insidious shroud, which surely got my attention soon enough.

    "The name is Willowbane." I heard it project as it craned its head forward from its shoulders on its neck. Its ears seemed to become gargantuan. I became aware it was obviously expectant upon a response from me. No one can say how long it had been ogling me this way through the crevice of semi-clarity betwixt the shade and the sill, but I nodded and projected an acknowledgement in return.

    The beast needn't have said more, and it didn't. At least it uttered not one more useful or comprehensible thing. It didn't need to. For such spies are sent by those who regret not being quite able to do the spying exactly themselves first hand, and never even have to return to report back to their source for having a sensory link with the true querent. Any discovery regarding what is wished to be known is realized straight away through the senses of the beast itself. Admittedly, it is a convenient way to gather information from afar. But it can also be careless. Just as the true querent senses what it wants through such spies, such spies are two-way mirrors to subjects who possess the slightest of heightened perceptions.

    And she knows I possess heightened perceptions. I can only conclude, as usual, she wanted me to see. She wanted me to see she was curious enough to send this Willowbane to do her bidding, however brief the moment. She wants me to remember as she does. She wants that I should not forget. She hopes that I should pine for her despite her words of praise, approval, encouragement, and consent regarding my life as it's become. She hopes to find a crack in which to set a tooth and pry apart the certain and steady foundation I've achieved. She would like that I should falter. She's seen me fall before, apparently more than twice, and seems to find my falling beautiful. Irresistible even.

    But her jibs work in vain. Hell, if the thing had not been frightened off by the actuality of my being able to truly see it, I'd have kindly kept Willowbane around a bit. But the poor thing bolted, not affording me even a morsel of simple or polite conversation. Pitty. A shame really. Afterall, I do so love cats.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

Author's Note

Artwork: "The World" by Stephanie Law.

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Oh wow! Mel, you write poetry and songs, you sing beautifully and you are one awesome story writer. This is excellent!