Brain of Dane

Here is my attempt at a flash fiction prompt from http://www.onerealstory.com/

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Cleopatra sat staring at the tall, opaque obstruction in front of her.  Somehow, she would find a way through, even if it meant begging.  She had begged at first with little to show for it.  The people she lived with seemed content with letting her suffer in this confined space.  They would come and go as they pleased, but if Cleo ever took a step towards the door, the people would bar her way with swift movements.  She would look up at them and ask nicely, but they just furrowed their brows and scolded her.  She then resorted to begging, emphasizing her need with frantic scratching.  Sometimes she would reach up as far as her body would stretch, and find that she couldn’t even reach the extruding knob to operate it herself.

They would sit and stare at the lighted box, mumbling to each other and eating their food.  Every once and a while, they would look down at her with their ugly faces and start making sing-song noises.  Noises that mocked her voice.  She didn’t hate the people, she just didn’t understand why she had to live inside a box when there was so much more beyond the walls.  I love you, but you don’t seem to love me the same,  she would think to herself.  You should know by now what I really want.

During the day when the people were gone, Cleopatra would sleep.  Most of the time when she slept, she was so comfortable that she would wake up hours later and not remember a thing.  On those days, she tried to sleep because the people weren’t there to scratch under her chin.  All sides of her personal prison had been explored.  Every nook and cranny, every piece of cloth the people left had been sniffed and catalogued.  At times, Cleo felt that she could recite the location of every piece of dust in the whole enclosure.  I have needs.  Needs that go beyond eating and sleeping.

Some days, though, a fever would overtake her.  She felt like running as fast as she could.  Her food tasted bland on those days, and sleep was out of reach.  The fur on her back stood on end, her tail and back twitched with agitation.  The rug under her feet felt foreign, unnatural and unnerving, as did the artificial light from the ceiling.  On those days, there was something tickling the back of her mind.  A feeling ran throughout her body; bristled the tip of her tail.  Her eyes could see it as if through a haze.  It had been so long.  The memory would fade after a while, and she would lay her exhausted body on the floor to fall into a fitful sleep.

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Opening her eyes, she could see that the walls were not there.  She had been fully expecting to just roll over on that uncomfortable floor, glance towards the obstruction to see if the humans were home yet, and go back to sleep.  Instead, she twisted her upper body awkwardly to get a level look at what appeared to be an open field.  It was green!  The grass was green, the trees were green, flowers bloomed above green-leafed stems.  She had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.  She leapt to her feet and sniffed the air with a renewed vigor.  She had forgotten what green smelled like;  what it felt like on her footpads.  Her tail twitched and she crouched down, using her keen eyesight to look for her first target.  Not a single second could be wasted.  The green made her feel wild and savage.  She wanted to sink her teeth and claws into something.

A green grasshopper alighted on a long blade of grass, causing Cleo to flatten the whole length of her body further into the lush foliage.  She could feel her back twitch once, twice, legs tensing, ready to pounce.  Just before she could attack, a breeze lifted from behind her and brushed across the field.  The grasshopper took the rush of wind under it’s wings and leapt from the blade.  Energized by the green rustling around her, she attacked, pouncing on the airborn bug with elegance and ease.  With a quick swipe, the grasshopper was back on the ground, stunned and floundering in the weeds.  Cleo was on it in a split second, pinning it down and nipping at it to cripple.  The chase did not have to end, but she could keep the odds in her favor with some well-placed bites.  The romp continued with Cleo finding a couple of field mice and some unsuspecting butterflies, which she followed to all corners of the wide field.

After the last critter had breathed it’s last, Cleo could feel her energy coming to an end.  She had forgotten where she had come from, and didn’t care where she would end up.  The green still called to her.  Playtime may be over, but the grass felt cool on her feet.  The sun was beeting down on her back, warming her and making her feel joyful.  She could sleep for years under that yellow warmth in her bed of green.  As she closed her eyes, she knew that she would never want to forget the green again.

After what seemed a long, warm sleep, Cleo awoke to the humans stepping into her white walled prison.  She could not help but howl in dismay, knowing that she had only dreamed of the green.  The humans seemed to think her howling signalled her delight that they were home.  She humored them and showed her affection by rubbing her body against their legs.  She still loved them and wanted them to pet her, but she couldn’t forget the field of green again.  She would never forget the green.