Black Cat Moments

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Marked by her yellow-black-white rings, the caterpillar cautiously inched her way up the right side of his face. Her fleshy prolegs steadily crawled up his fuzzy, jowly cheekbone line. She paused and meditated on his cool touch upon her tummy. The friction underneath energized her confidence. Calmly, she crept her way up and up and saw herself grow stronger and weightier with each passing moment. His milkweed became her obsession. Deep inside his verdant touch was where he kept buried his prideful confessions. Slowly chewing at his childhood wounds each day suited her sinister feed. Gently, her tiny head bobbed up and down. She delicately worked her way up and up the diamond-shaped arch of his right-side cheek.

Suddenly, her head jerked to her right. By instinct, one of her eyelets had captured what seemed to have been his last gaze to the world. Soon afterwards she found his eyes were missing; they never existed. She was curious about the cause of his decay. To her, he seemed dead to the world. In reverence, she bowed her small, round head and accepted his loss. She drew closer to his steady darkness for what stared back at her were two piteous sockets voided of light. These vacuous sockets, sunken and withdrawn, formed a hybris of some forgotten tragedy that had ruined his life long ago.

Frozen, she gazed at his hollow eyes that stood like two giant caves yawning. She thought his eyes acted like dark entrances waiting patiently to entice her empathic curiosity. Because much lonelier, and more inviting than the other was his right-eye socket, she chose to moult and lay her silk mat to hook and spin steel. It was there, inside his right-eye socket, she nestled. Time grew slowly, and so did she. Consumed and bound by it, it was deep inside his right-eye of bondage the place she made her home. Throughout his pale darkness–her little Israel–she cocooned.

Without warning, light shook her body. Instantly, she felt her newly compounded vision staring out at two red orbs. They beamed back at her gloriously. She thought to herself she had somehow been engulfed by flames. That had not been the case. She soon would uncover the truth. Those brightly lit, red-hot eyes had never left him. They had remained shut; however, she did not know for how long. Wherefore, the Queen, with her soft touch, had unknowingly awaken his old fury. Had she done something wrong to provoke his wrath? Had he had enough of her crunching and chewing at his vulnerabilities? She soon realized his wide pupils penetratingly gleaming back at her new suit. Then glimpsing downwards at her crepey residue, he narrowed his fiery eyes. In a flash, her flaming orange wings burst open.