Perennials Last Longer

One of the more terrible dreams I have ever had involves the death of my cat. Tulip and I were making our way through a secret underground facility that housed criminals convicted of psychic crimes. Everyone had to wear silly blue caps that blocked beta waves to protect us from mental possession. Tulip, being a cat, was presumed safe from this however, and she chuckled at me in a very snarky fashion that I looked ridiculous in the cerulean hat.

We rounded a corner and out of nowhere she went stock still, frizzled out all of her fur and crackled with static. Before we could recover from the shock she settled into a pose of utter calm and looked up at us with red eyes. The man next to me started screaming and his head popped. In an instant the whole place was pandemonium.

Furniture crashed about, doors opened and closed wildly and people flew through the air, body parts exploding at random. I dove under a desk and closed my eyes but I could still hear screaming and the scrape of metal across the walls.

It stopped abruptly as it had started and there wasn’t a whisper of noise. I slowly opened my eyes and Tulip, or whatever was possessing her sat composed directly in front of me. Her mouth didn’t open but I heard a voice in my head. “Your cat has been pleading for your life.” It was a surprisingly normal voice, not “creepy” in the slightest, but it terrified me. He tells me that he needs a new body and looks across the room to an unconscious lab employee lying under an operating table.

“This will be grotesque,” he warns me. Tulip levitates into the air, and all of her bones crack and stick out of her hide at odd angles. Her head falls off and her decapitated corpse falls to the ground, quickly forming a pool of blood that seems far too large to have come from such a tiny body. I’m too horrified to go to her, shocked beyond tears, so I sit on the floor across from her unmoving.

Slowly, the employee across the room sits up. He scans the room in perfect silence. When his gaze meets mine, my mind goes black. The last thing I remember is an orange exploding.

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10 thoughts on “Perennials Last Longer

  1. Good LORD woman…Get yourself some tequila and Tulip some catnip stat! Your writing is so evocative – I was actually physically responding to this – cringing/covering eyes/rocking back and forth in fetal position…scratch that, send the tequila my way instead!…Lill

  2. Pingback: Cheshire Cat « Fela 2 Fela

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